A Study in Darkness
by Koalagriton
Summary: After the defeat of their enemies and without a purpose the ninja family seems to be falling apart. When Leonardo finally manages to pull them together to attempt to get back into patrolling they are split up and something awful happens to Mikey. Things to look forward to: Mikey losing his mind. Raph freaking out. Leo trying to help and not helping. Sceptical Donnie is sceptical.
1. Together Again

Chapter 1: Together Again

The night air was getting colder even though the concrete and tiles under his feet retained some of the warmth of the day. It felt good to run across the roofs, the only noise the soft pat of his feet after launching himself over a street. It didn't feel as good as it used to though but he needed it more lately. He was starting to understand Raphael more and more, or rather, as much as one could understand a need he had and didn't know where it was coming from and never could satisfy.

It had been sunny today, he guessed. He hadn't seen it himself. In their new lair there was no sunlight to be had. Donatello said he was working something and then went about with other tasks most of which he couldn't understand but he supposed were more important than his recent urge to see the sky from inside. He didn't really know why it bothered him so much. They had lived most of their life without any sunlight, or trips topside for that matter. He was missing something, he just didn't really know what.

Even Michelangelo seemed restless. It wasn't in the same way Raphael felt it, he was sure. Raphael had days where he was completely unapproachable. He seemed more wild and violent during sparring and then took to his punching bag or pacing until the sun was low enough to make his escape. He reminded Leonardo of a caged tiger. Sometimes his amber gaze would settle on him and he swore it looked feral. On those days he was best left to himself. Even Leo couldn't bring himself to keep him below ground or start another confrontation.

They didn't really talk much any more. Not about anything important, at least. He knew what Raph thought about his decisions as of late. That argument had been going on and on with them for so long he knew the words before Raph had a chance to speak them, or yell them as they exchanged frustrated blows. He didn't want to fight him any more. He sensed Raph had come to the same tired conclusion. They tried to keep out of each other's way after an exceptionally violent confrontation they both ended up feeling guilty about but neither wanted to apologize for.

That night they had come very close to seriously harming one another. Donnie and Mikey had tried to pull them off each other which proved difficult. Their bodies were slippery from the blood seeping from numerous cuts and puncture wounds. He hadn't even noticed them at first until their frightened screams had finally reached him and he let go of Raphael suddenly. They had fallen with a thump against the tatami mats as Don and Mikey failed to compensate for the lack of resistance. When he looked up and around the room as his rage cleared he felt sick to his stomach. There was so much blood, his own, his brother's. Most of it was Raphael's. He had used his blade on him and the spray of red painted colourful arches on the walls as testament to his fury.

Raphael had dealt his share of pain, mostly bruises, a dislocated arm, a broken jaw. The worst of it was a single puncture wound in his thigh that had nicked an artery. He had struggled against Don's hold as he suddenly tried to reach Raphael to make sure he was okay. Donatello mistook it for a sign of aggression and continued to hold him back from behind with an arm coming in front of his neck in a choke-hold ready to act. Leo found his brother's amber gaze and held it. Both of them were panting and looking at each other in a slightly bewildered state before they were dragged off to the infirmary. They never meant for it to get that far. They both understood their regret in that moment. They hadn't spoken of it since.

There were more than a few things that churned in his gut about that day. How he had lost control and came at his brother like a savage animal was one. How little he remembered of the actual fight was another. He remembered the way his usually calm, intelligent brother trembled when he held on to him, trying to keep his brothers from killing each other, Mikey's broken sobs as he curled himself around Raph. He had been begging him to stop knowing that if Raphael wanted to, he was strong enough to get to Leo. Even with all this the one thing that turned his blood to ice was when he turned his head and saw his father steadying himself on the frame of his door, walking stick discarded in his rush to reach them. The look on his aged face was one of terror and it haunted Leonardo to be the one who put it there.

A crackle of static coming from his headset brought Leonardo out of his reverie, his smart brother's gentle voice on the other end sounded a bit winded from his run. He was going to have to speak to him about his stamina training. "Does anyone else see that? I think there's some smoke up ahead. It looks like it's coming from the old apartment building on Bleeker Street that was programmed for demolition next week."

Leonardo had managed to get his brothers back on regular patrols for the last few days. At least three of them. Master Splinter hadn't been happy about it. He was trying to keep everyone closer to home as of late and Leonardo had been fighting with himself about having that conversation. The rat was getting into his late years and his instinct was telling him to keep close to his father who needed his proximity more than ever. He spent most of his time in his room, in bed. His energy seemed to have left him but his eyes shone whenever Leonardo asked to meditate with him when he was feeling stronger or share a cup of tea in his room when he wasn't. His brothers needed the escape and his duty was to them as well. They had all become restless and irritable was becoming their base setting now. Even though his father argued and was correct to say that since their alliance with Karai's foot clan the crime rate was under control and there was no need to leave every night, he needed to give them a direction, motivation to work together and not fight against each other. Even if it meant running in circles across roof tops and stopping purse snatchers.

"I can't see it, but I can smell it. Phew! Definitely a fire somewhere. I'm headin' over from the east." Raphael's gruff voice came over loud and clear. So much for stealth, he thought, but said nothing. Maybe a year ago he would have admonished him for not keeping quiet. Right now he was just glad Raph hadn't argued and come along with them on their run. It had been so long since they had all gone out together.

Instead, he said quietly, "Don, meet me across the street from the building, we're coming from the north to take a look. At the first sign of police or fire-fighters disappear." He heard Don's breathless words of agreement and Raph's grunt of acknowledgement which made the corner of his mouth pull upwards before he could stop it. This was going much better than he anticipated. Perhaps Raph missed him as much as Leo did. He was right to push master Splinter on this. "Mikey, what's your location?"

"I'm already there. There's a fire on the third floor. Dude! I think there's someone in there! I think I saw the silhouette of a person walking around."

"Wait for us, Mikey. Don't just run in. This might be better left to the firemen. You could get trapped in there or seen by someone." Leo's commanding voice came across loudly over the earphones. Stealth be damned. He knew what Mikey's tone of voice sounded like, he was going to go in the building regardless. He sped up and spotted Donatello sprinting as fast as he could across a roof on the other side of the street, his panting breath coming over the headset. They were going to have to go in after Mikey, he was certain, but they were too far away to do anything at the moment.

"We can't just sit by and watch! We have to do something! I'm going in, you can do whatever you want." The communication went silent as they heard heavy footfalls on metal. He must have jumped onto the fire escape to climb into a window

* * *

"I see him! I'm almost there! I'm goin' after Mikey. I'll drag ya out if I have ta, don't make me chase after ya!" Raphael was practically yelling over his microphone but Mikey didn't answer as he crouched by a window trying to open it with a small hidden dagger he pulled from his wrist wraps. Raph was still a block and a half away on a taller building muttering under his breath as he realised there was no way to roof jump all the way there from his direction. He would have to waste precious time climbing down, run through the streets and then reach the abandoned apartment building to climb back up. He really didn't want to run into a fire either but he wasn't going to allow his little brother to run into a burning building chasing shadows on his own. He could see the dark outline of his brother against the light colour of the building as he watched him disappear through a window. He cursed through the headset in colourful adjectives half expecting his elder brother to complain but knowing he wouldn't say a word about it. Not any more he wouldn't. He kind of hoped he would, it would bring a little normalcy back into their lives. Leonardo was being very careful and distant around him and it just pissed him off more than when they were throwing insults and fighting each other. Except that one time, he thought for a moment but pushed the memory away.

* * *

Michelangelo waited to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the interior of the room and then made his way towards the end of the building where he had seen the figure walking around. The layout of this place was confusing. It had been small flats and for a short time an office building. Some walls had been torn down to make the floors into a single space made up of small disjointed rooms and old narrow hallways that all looked very similar but not quite symmetrical. It was like a maze. He let his sense of direction guide him and he knew he was going in the right direction when he noticed the smoke at the end of a long hallway. He crouched down slightly to avoid breathing it in as he approached silently, then thought better of it and cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, "Hello? Is there someone in here? Hello? There's a fire, you need to get out!"

He made a turn at the end of the hallway thinking he'd call out a bit more and then make his way out. Maybe the person he saw had left already. As he turned another corner he saw a shadow dart in front of an open door and down another hallway towards the fire. "Wait! Don't go that way! Dude! You need to get out of here! Guys, there is someone in here. I'm going to get them out. Guys?" He couldn't hear his brothers though he could make out what he thought were their whispers through the headset. He couldn't really hear much above the roar of the flames though. It was getting very hot and he had to crouch low to the ground to move around and avoid the smoke that was making him cough and his eyes water. He avoided opening any closed doors, feeling the walls for increases of temperature that would tell him there was fire on the other side. He chased the shadow around a few corners. He called out for him to stop to no avail. Maybe he caught a glimpse of me and I frightened him, he thought frowning. He seemed to just catch the end of him entering a new corridor with the corner of his eye every time he changed direction until he came to a large door.

There was no other way out. He was certain the person had come this way and there was no way he could have passed by him without him knowing, the hallways were too narrow. He must be in there. "Don't be scared, I'm here to help! I'm going to check this room and them I'm out of here! I'm warning you!" He walked up the door and put his hand on it. It was cool to the touch so he turned the handle and stepped in. There was black smoke everywhere and it was very hard to make out anything. He was crawling on his hands and knees as he called out when he saw her. She must have gone into the room and breathed too much smoke. She was laying on the ground flat on her back and very still. Mikey scrambled up to the woman relieved to have finally reached her but worried about the lack of response. Was she even breathing?

"Come on! I gotcha, lady, we need to leave right now." Mikey figured even if she wasn't breathing he couldn't perform CPR in a burning building so he needed to carry her out. He paused with a hand on her shoulder, looking back. He had been turned around so many times during his chase he wasn't sure how to get back out the same way. At least he had to get them both away from this area. He slipped a hand under the woman's shoulders and knees and lifted quickly as he turned his body intending to dash out of there. She fell right out of his hands, he yelped and fumbled trying to adjust his hold but couldn't and something rolled away coming to a stop as it bumped against the wall. He began to apologize when he stopped a second, confused, and looked down. He really looked this time and he felt his heartbeat pounding in his chest and in his ears, a scream bubbling up in his throat.

* * *

"What do you mean you LOST him?!" Leo yelled at his brother, all reservations about causing an argument forgotten as he looked into the angry gaze of his soot-covered brother.

"I can't find him! I was right behind him!" He brought his hand up to wipe the sweat from his forehead leaving a black streak. "The communicators ain't working, it's a maze in there and the fire is out of control!" Leonardo held back his angry retort when he heard the frightened break in Raphael's voice. "If he ain't out here we need ta get back in there!"

"It's only Mikey's communicator that isn't working. Maybe he turned it off?" Donatello pulled out the shell cell and started going through menu options."His phone is on, his signal shows he's at the southern corner of the building." He looked up, his hand shaking a little. "He hasn't moved in the last seven minutes but maybe he dropped it..." another menu came up and another map with a blip on it was on screen. "The tracker in his carapace shows him in the same place, he isn't moving." Raphael turned and made to go in through the window but Donatello pulled him back, talking quickly at the enraged look he shot his way. "We should go around to that side of the building from the outside! The way might be blocked through the inside, it could take too long!"

Leonardo nodded and opened his mouth to give out orders when he was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream through the communicator. His little brother's. His eyes widened and he snapped his mouth shut. As one they launched themselves into action as they ran around the building and up the fire escape making their way as quickly as they could to find him, to save him. Terrible scenarios played out in Leonardo's mind. Michelangelo under fallen debris, crushed. Mikey trapped with no way out, burning alive. He pushed it all back when his brothers screams died down and silence returned. He was trying deperately not to think what the silence meant. Mikey is alright. Mikey is in trouble but we'll get to him in time. Mikey isn't... d– He looked to Don urgently when they reached their location, Mikey wasn't there. "He isn't here, Don. Where, Don, WHERE IS HE?" He didn't bother to keep his calm façade in place. He was panicking and looked to the one brother who always gave him an answer for the worst of situations.

Donatello shook his head, his mouth opening and closing as he looked from his brother to his phone. The blip showed Mikey's tracker was where they were standing and then suddenly jumped to a new location nearby. "This way!" He ran down a hallway with his brothers at his heels and turned a corner so quickly he nearly tripped over the dark lump on the floor. "Mikey!"

Sirens started wailing in the distance. Without a word Raphael reached down and slung Mikey over his shoulder. Making his way quickly back the way they came. They went into a dark alley and hid out of sight just as the police and firemen reached the scene. They made their way quickly needing to reach a safe distance before they could stop to look him over.

Michelangelo's weight was heavy against his shoulder. His limbs swinging uselessly bumping against his body with every step. Donatello whimpered softly for a moment as he watched the motion and bit down any more sounds as they continued to run. Raphael, needing to be reassured, put a hand to the back of his baby brother's thigh and squeezed, willing him to react but not daring to voice his worries when he didn't move. A knot was lodged in their throats and none spoke as they reached a secluded manhole cover they could climb down. Leonardo ran ahead and removed the cover. He jumped down and lifted his arms waiting.

Donatello helped Raphael with his little brother's limp form, manoeuvring his body to lower feet first into the waiting arms of the eldest. They climbed down after him and set Mikey's body on the floor flat on his carapace in a dry area. He was breathing and had started to wake, to everyone's relief. A collective breath was let out as they watched him stir. Don leaned down to pat his cheek which turned into a caress as he called out his name softly, the fear that hadn't left him not allowing him to do more than whisper. Now he was back in his hands where he could do something to help. He had been so frightened when he heard his screams and couldn't rely on his equipment to reach his brother. His technology had failed him. He rummaged around in his duffel bag he carried across a shoulder and pulled out a rag and a bottle of water. He moistened the rag and wiped his brother's black face removing his mask and taking special care to clean around his eyes, nostrils and mouth. Mikey moaned and scrunched up his face a moment before relaxing again.

"He must have inhaled a lot of smoke. He needs oxygen, we need to get him back to the lair." Raph and Leo nodded silently and Raphael made to pick him up again when Mikey sat up abruptly looking wild-eyed and confused. "Mikey?" Donatello asked carefully motioning Raphael to stay back and give him some room.

Mikey's breath was coming in short gasps and he seemed panicked and disoriented. He was turning his head looking into the blackness of the tunnels and Raphael had to look behind him at his brother's fearful whimper to make sure there was no one there. His hackles were raised and something was feeling off. "Did you see her?" Mikey looked at Leonardo sounding small and scared. "Did you see what they did to her?"

Leonardo tilted his head and knelt closer to him, his eyes darting between Mikey's trying to understand what he was asking him as he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. Mikey flinched and pulled away, struggling to stand. Donatello made to stop him but he pushed his brother's hands away and used the wall of the tunnel and a pipe that went along it to prop himself up. His legs wouldn't hold his weight and he just huddled against the wall. "Who?" Donatello asked, his hands outstretched as if he were approaching a wounded animal.

"Was she a ghost? Did it really happen? What did they do to her? I didn't know they had... I'm sorry. She just fell apart." He was swaying slightly on his knees and his voice trailed off as he paled and then bent over on all fours and hurled, his body shaking violently.

Donatello surged forward snaking an arm under him, his hand flat against Mikey's plastron to keep him from falling forward into his vomit and another on his carapace patting lightly and drawing soothing circles waiting until he was done retching. Leonardo and Raphael looked at Don, expecting answers. After a moment, Donatello scrunched his beak at the smell of bile and tried to explain what he could "Smoke inhalation can produce nausea, shortness of breath and confusion, amongst other things. We need to get him back to the lair and on oxygen." It didn't cause hallucinations, he kept to himself. He didn't seem to have any wounds on him so why had he been screaming? What happened? Something terrible had happened to his only little brother and he didn't know how to help him.

* * *

Seemingly satisfied, Leonardo handed Don the water bottle he was reaching for and they both gently pushed him back into a sitting position when he had emptied his stomach so they could wipe the throw-up off his mouth and hands and he could rinse his mouth and drink. He was still breathing in short gasps and turning his head this way and that. It seemed like he was expecting something to come at them. It was putting Raphael on edge. He was feeling hunted just watching Mikey's reactions. When they asked if he could walk he didn't seem to understand so they tried helping him up, his legs buckling after a shaky step.

Raph reached the limit of his patience, worry fraying it at the edges. He pushed Don and Leo aside and lifted Mikey into his arms bridal style. The three of them stopped and looked at each other when they didn't hear the complaint they were expecting. Leonardo's mouth pressed into a thin line and curled down at the edges.

Raphael started walking in the direction of the lair, all of them in silence. It was unnerving him, Mikey was never this quiet. "Sheesh, Princess, you need to let up on the candy. You weigh a ton!" He directed a half-smile at his baby brother hoping for a come-back, a reply, anything, but he didn't. After a while his brother started whimpering and buried his face into Raph's neck. It wasn't the whimper of a frightened Mikey. It sounded like the pained, shrieked whimper of a wounded animal. He could smell the salt of his ears, felt the way his body shook in fear. Raphael picked up his pace and began a light jog. If he ran any faster he would tire quickly and would need one of his brothers to carry Mikey for a while and there was no way he was letting go of his baby brother while he was like this. He would never tell them. He hoped they knew how much they meant to him. How scared he was of losing one of them, or them getting hurt. He wasn't one for demonstrations of affection or... words. They would probably mock him for it under normal circumstances, but if anyone else noticed him holding Mikey a little closer and nuzzling his head gently, they didn't mention it as they jogged alongside him.


	2. Not So Different

Chapter 2: Not So Different

Previously...

He wasn't one for demonstrations of affection or... words. They would probably mock him for it under normal circumstances, but if anyone else noticed him holding Mikey a little closer and nuzzling his head gently, they didn't mention it as they jogged alongside him.

"I got ya, Mikey. No one's gonna hurt ya." He told Mikey softly in his deep baritone and Mikey burrowed into the space where his neck met his shoulders, his hand coming to rest flat against Raph's plastron. At least he was responding to him even if his responses were worrying the hell out of him. He had stopped that horrible whimpering he was doing earlier in the darker parts of the tunnels and slumped against his strong brother's chest looking for comfort Raph wasn't sure he was giving him. He wasn't good at this comfort crap. Tell him who hurt you and who to hit and he was game, but this...

Leonardo came up to him then. "Don will run ahead and prepare the infirmary. We'll keep our headsets on in case we need anything." He directed the last part at Donatello who was sweating and out of breath but his face was determined and he increased his pace to run ahead of them.

Raph shook his head and slowed down a bit. Donnie was gonna need to seriously get back into training. Ever since Sensei had stopped training them and then the... thing with him and Leo, Don had been more distant. He was already quite reserved and liked to hide himself away in the lab but now it had gotten to a point where he'd skip training more often than not and they wouldn't see him for a few days straight. They might only catch glimpses of him when he went for coffee or Mikey convinced him to eat a sandwich. He had lost quite a bit of weight and he was ashamed to realise that he hadn't noticed how much until now.

Leo, matched his decrease in speed and fell into step beside him. "Do you need me to carry him for a bit?" Raph shook his head again and glanced at his older brother. The crease on his forehead from his worried looks seemed to have been fixed there. It was a permanent wrinkle caused by the weight on his shoulders. The weight he put there himself, he snorted to himself. "What?" Leonardo answered to the noise, his frown deepening, the crease on his forehead showing more.

"He's gonna be fine." He said, not sure if it was for Leo or for himself. "Don'll fix him right up. He'll be his annoying self in no time so wipe that frown off your face."

Leonardo's eye ridge went up a fraction and then his expression went blank. He seemed to have not realised he had dropped his 'mask' back when he heard the scream and forgot to put it back on until now.

Raphael sighed. That was not what he meant. The crease was still there, he didn't have to pretend for him, for them. What did he think he was accomplishing by hiding himself this way? If Don hid himself physically in the interior of his train car turned lab, Leonardo hid himself in plain sight. He would become cold, aloof, like he was above such mundane things as feelings. It pissed him off so much. He ground his teeth and kept his gaze forward. No more talking, he was only going to make things worse.

Raphael increased his speed again and was nearly sprinting when he came across a familiar section of the sewers which he recognized as being near the entrance to their new lair. Leonardo sped ahead and reached the wall first, tapping a certain brick that lowered a keypad to enter a combination. The wall slid forward and then to the side almost completely in silence and Raph nudged Leonardo aside a bit roughly to take Michelangelo along the train tracks in the tunnel to the subway car they had turned into an infirmary/meditation room separating the two spaces with a removable panel in case they needed to fit more patients or equipment inside.

Donatello was in the car and he had moved an oxygen tank by the bed and was preparing some equipment to check Mikey. Splinter wasn't in sight and Raphael felt slightly relieved. He didn't need to see Mikey like this. He edged over to the bed but Donatello stopped him with a touch to his shoulder and gestured towards the steel examination table at the other end of the car. Raphael frowned. He didn't think Mikey was so bad off that he couldn't look at him from the bed but he went anyway. He placed Mikey on the table with a loud clap as his carapace met the hard surface and extended his legs carefully along the table. He reached to his belt to remove his nunchucks, setting them aside and then tried lowering his upper body to lay flat but Mikey wouldn't budge. Raphael turned to look at Don, he wasn't sure what to do. He didn't really want to let go of Mikey either.

Donnie stood by him looking at Mikey with worried eyes. "Mikey, can you lay down for a bit I need to get a look at you." He wouldn't respond so Donatello started pulling him off Raph firmly but as gently as he could. Mikey's hands were curled around the edge of Raphael's carapace over his shoulders, his face turned into Raph's neck. Don brought himself close as he whispered comforting words in his brother's ear, uncurling his fingers from his older brother and lowering him down on the cold surface.

Mikey's eyes were shut, his face scrunched up in a pained grimace and the awful whimpering had started again. He shushed him softly and asked Raphael to wait outside and close the door. Raph held his ground, his arms crossed in front of him in a challenge but after an incredulous look from Donnie he did as he was told. He didn't need to protect Mikey from Don. He was on edge that's all.

He nearly ran into Leonardo on his way out. "What's going on?"

"Don wants to examine Mikey or somethin', asked us ta wait outside." Raphael shrugged. Now the waiting game would start. He didn't like this, waiting around for answers. He itched to head out again and go back to that place to find what had spooked his brother. To find who did this to him. He had said something about a woman and "they" had done something to her. Instead he went to the kitchen to get something to drink while Leonardo entered the infirmary. He shook his head and smirked when he saw him leave after a few seconds, Don had kicked him out too. What did he think, that he was more useful than Raph in this situation?

He watched Leonardo stand outside the infirmary with a bewildered expression on his face, clearly confused about having been dismissed. Things were different now. Sure, they had all played nice for a couple of hours while they ran around a bit remembering the old days, but they were back home now. Don did things his own way. He had become too used to calling his own shots to start following Leo blindly and obey orders like a lapdog.

He felt a bit sad about it though. Not the lapdog part. Donnie used to have this shine in his eyes he rarely saw any more. Maybe he just wasn't challenged how he used to be. Nothing like a bloodthirsty clan after your family to push you to do extraordinary things. He used to look at Leo differently as well. There was admiration there. Not any more. That was gone after the incident, after their fight. There's nothing like seeing your hero act like a rabid animal to kill that perfect image he had of his older brother. Donatello hadn't spoken to either of them for a couple weeks after that. He had sewn them up and tended their wounds but hadn't spoken a word and it had changed him.

Raphael and Leonardo had avoided each other since then. At least, as much as it was possible when they were confined in the small abandoned subway station they had found after a mutated Hun had torn their last lair apart. It was meant to be a temporary solution until they found something better, but they hadn't. They were sharing rooms, if you could call the four converted subway cars rooms. They had pulled out most of the seating, put in beds and lighting and Donatello had put up separating panels to divide the cars in to two rooms each. It didn't give them much in the way of privacy, every step or noise could be heard and even felt by the other. Splinter's car had been at one point divided into a meditation room and his personal quarters but after the "incident" Leonardo was made to move in, much to his shame. Raphael was now sharing with Mikey and Donatello had a car to himself on the other side of the tracks with the other half being his lab. The platform on that end was littered with larger projects he couldn't fit into the car. The fourth car, parked on the furthest end of the tracks was now the infirmary/meditation room.

The rest of the lair was open space, the old platform for the station served as a living area, eating area and dojo. On the wall by the recently installed mismatched kitchen appliances and cabinets was a door to the rest rooms and a small storage room not much larger than a broom closet. He had fixed up the men's room and converted the ladies' room into showers, pulling out the stalls, installing shower heads along the wall and with a big tub taking up the whole end where they could soak stretched out comfortably whenever the need arose. They were turtles, after all.

Raphael's only real interaction with Leonardo was occasional training sessions. Mikey would join sometimes too, more often with Leonardo but he suspected it was more about company and humouring the brothers than a real interest in maintaining his training. Donatello rarely showed up any more. Raph still did his own strength training and the odd kata here and there but he sometimes joined Leonardo for unarmed sparring when Master Splinter called them to do so under his supervision. His lip curled at the thought. He wasn't a wild animal, he wasn't going to lose it and go after his brother... again. Leonardo would spend his time training obsessively, practising katas and meditating at all hours of the day and he was surprised to know he had been going topside alone most nights Raph had gone out as well. At first he was annoyed by it, thinking he was being followed around. He had been suspicious of how easily Leonardo acquiesced to him leaving the lair and thought that maybe the only reason for it was because he had stealthily been chasing him around and watching over him like he was his god-damned babysitter. Leonardo was crazy good at the stealth thing. If he didn't want you to see him, you wouldn't.

He was shocked one night to realise he wasn't. Raph had hidden in the shadows of a tunnel waiting to see if he could catch Leo at his own game and was surprised when he shot past him towards the nearest manhole cover. Raph had followed him at a considerable distance, worried about getting caught but intrigued as to what Fearless Leader Leonardo was up to. He followed him around as Leo sprinted across rooftops at top speed, running as if the devil were after him. He seemed to be going in a certain direction, not cutting across the city in a large circle like when they trained. After a long time, when Raph was about to give up, tired out of his mind, Leo had stopped on a rooftop and collapsed, panting heavily. They were way out of their usual area, near an abandoned section of the docks. He took a moment to catch his own breath when he saw Leo get up and slam his fists against the ledge giving a frustrated yell out to the world. Raph knew all too well about that feeling. He hated Leo when he acted all high and mighty, pretending to be better than the others when he knew perfectly well that they were very similar. Leo just hid it better, pretended to be perfect when he was just as fucked up and unhappy about their circumstances as he was. He seemed to deflate after that and if he didn't know any better, he would have seen the shake of his shoulders and thought he was crying. But Fearless don't cry. Specially not about something stupid like the unfairness of the world or his family doing their own thing for once. Without him.

Raphael had turned around and left him on his own after that. The next day before leaving he had let him know. He didn't ask for permission or nothing. It's not like he owed Splinter Junior anything. Just said it out loud, in his vicinity. Leonardo had looked up surprised and gave him a small nod, just the tiniest movement of his chin to let him know he had heard. He had been dancing around Raph walking on egg shells since, trying to bring up small talk like he was talking to someone who might snap. The fuck do I care about the weather today? It's not like I can see it from here.

He reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. It was Mikey's but he figured he owed him since he had dragged his butt around the sewers like a freaking blushing bride and let himself be cried on. Now that he had let some distance and time pass he was embarrassed about it. Mikey was fine, just a little shaken up, that's all. He opened the bottle and took a swig. It tasted awful. Like guilt and regret. He put the cap back on and returned it to the fridge.

"Use a glass if you're not going to finish it. You got soot over everything." Raph looked up, surprised Leonardo had addressed him. It had been a long time. He smirked and used the whole palm of his hand to close the white fridge door leaving a smudged black hand-print. Then turned and walked straight to the showers, his smirk increasing with the frustrated noise Leo made in his throat. He didn't see the small upwards twitch of Leo's lips at his actions. This was the closest thing to normal he had felt around Raph in a while.

After they had both showered and had a snack, Raph and Leo sat on the couch in front of the tv side by side. They had the news on a local station, waiting to see reports on the fire but they were only covering sports and weather. They pretended to watch whatever was on but they both had their senses tuned to the infirmary door. When they had emerged the whimpering had already stopped. Leonardo was of a mind to go see Master Splinter. The fact that he hadn't woken up with the sound was worrying him. After poking his head through the door and seeing the slow rise and fall of his chest he had left him be. This could be addressed in the morning. Some time ago, he remembered, Master Splinter would always catch him before he even knocked on the door or approached the shoji screen. Now he didn't even stir after opening and stepping inside his room.

They both heard Donatello's gentle voice at the same time and Raph lifted the remote and put the tv on mute. They exchanged glances and listened to his muffled words though they couldn't make them out. After a couple minutes Mikey's frantic speech made both turtles rise. "I've had enough of this." Leo said out loud and Raphael grunted his agreement. They both headed to the infirmary and entered. Mikey abruptly cut off what he was saying as Donatello whirled on them, hands raised, ready to kick them out. Leonardo cut him off quickly with his own raised hand. "This is a family matter, Don. We need to know what is going on. What happened in there?" He looked directly at Mikey with his question.

Mikey's gaze went to the floor and he shook his head. "I don't know, it was dark. There was smoke everywhere. I'm not sure what I s-saw." His voice was too soft and trembling. This wasn't right. Why would he lie?

"Ya tryin' to tell me that the freak out ya had back there was because of all the smoke and you 'thought' you saw some woman?" Raph bellowed a little louder than even he expected causing Mikey to flinch, his trembling getting worse.

"You two are NOT helping!" Donatello was herding them backwards towards the open door as they both spoke up talking to Michelangelo, demanding answers. "He's just getting over the shock. Right now is not the time for this!" He was trying to make himself heard over their loud voices.

"What is going on here!?" Master Splinter's firm, authoritative voice cut through the others and all three turtles grew silent.

"Master Splinter," Leonardo began, "Something happened to Mikey when we went out on patrol. We were separated in a fire and he was acting strangely when we pulled him from the building. We are trying to ascertain what happened while he –".

"Sensei," Donatello interrupted. He would have never done that before. He would have waited until Leo was done talking and not spoken over him. "Michelangelo was unconscious when we got to him and he went into a confused state due to carbon monoxide poisoning. I've had him on oxygen since we brought him back but he needs to clean up and rest. I want to keep him calm and under observation until he recovers. Explanations can wait. He was just trapped in a burning building, nothing that needs immediate action or retaliation."

Once upon a time, Master Splinter would have pulled Leonardo aside to listen to his full side of the story and he would have put his trust on his eldest son's decision. It wasn't that he considered Donatello to be less trust-worthy but would have weighed Leonardo's opinions carefully and not dismissed them so quickly. Instead he said, "I trust your judgment, Donatello. We shall reunite in the morning for a full explanation in the dojo. Rest, my son." He put a boney paw on Michelangelo's shoulder and squeezed gently, smiling as Mikey leaned into the touch and nodded slightly. Matter settled to his satisfaction he walked back to his room leaning heavily on his walking stick. Leonardo made to help him but he was waved away.

With Mikey's gaze still firmly set on the floor the other three turtles stood in silence. Don held Leo's gaze in a stand off and Raph glanced from one to the other. He turned his head and made sure Splinter had already entered his room before speaking. "That's a load of bull, Don and you know it." He lowered his voice so as to not call the attention of the elderly rat. Don wasn't even listening to him, still squaring off to Leo. Raph had had enough. He snapped his fingers between their faces. He wasn't going to put up with their pissing contest. Who cared who was Splinter's favourite now? "Hey, yeah, I'm talking to you, Egghead".

Donatello's furious gaze snapped to Raphael and he almost flinched at their hazel fury. Almost. Don couldn't take him. Probably couldn't even put up a decent fight. Not any more. He probably couldn't even push him to the door. "Get. Out." Donatello growled between gritted teeth, his hands fisted at his sides.

Leonardo who was standing arms crossed in front of him, pinched the bridge of his snout between his eyes, massaging the growing headache there and attempting to sound reasonable. "Don, please, just a few questions. He seems well enough." He gestured to the mask-less turtle sitting on the edge of the exam table with his legs dangling over the edge. Chin to his chest and elbows on his knees, his hands hung limply between them. He was the perfect picture of misery, but there was something off in his eyes. They were still too wide and his breathing was off. Maybe it truly was due to the smoke, but he wanted to hear it from him.

Donatello opened his mouth, about to say something when said miserable turtle spoke up. "Nothing happened. I made a mistake. I wasn't feeling well and my head felt fuzzy. Look, we'll talk tomorrow and go through it but there's just nothing to say other than I thought I saw someone, got turned around in that maze of a building and must have breathed in too much smoke."

Donatello closed his mouth and nodded. "There you go. Happy? We'll talk more about it tomorrow."

Leonardo was not pleased with this explanation. He put his hand on Mikey's shoulder and crouched down in front of him, trying to catch his eye. "Look at me, Mikey." He paused and waited for the smaller turtle to comply. "You were screaming, Mikey. We heard you through the communicators. It sounded like," he paused again to swallow. It had been the worst noise he had ever heard. It sounded like his little brother was being killed, or was scared out of his mind and he couldn't stop it. "It sounded like something awful was happening to you."

"Understatement of the year." Raphael muttered but he stepped back to lean his hip on the opposite end of the exam table and let Leonardo continue. Even Donatello sat back on the low bed crammed in a corner of the car.

Michelangelo was shaking his head again. "I- I don't remember doing that. I don't know..." He closed his eyes for a second and winced momentarily. He snapped his eyes open right after and brought his eyes to another spot of the infirmary floor, avoiding Leonardo's gaze once again.

Leo sighed and got back up, shaking his head. He gestured to Don to go outside but Don gestured no. "I want to get Mikey washed up and in bed with oxygen."

Raphael, about to lose his patience again grabbed Leo by the elbow and dragged him out of the car. "C'mon Fearless, we ain't going ta get anywhere here." He stormed off with Leonardo in tow and went down onto the tracks, through the tunnel and right out the entrance to the lair.

Leonardo dug his heels in the sewer floor and wrenched his arm from his brother's hold. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"WE are going back ta the building on Bleeker Street ta get some answers." He gestured between both of them with a wave of his hand, a smirk on his face. After a moment of holding Leonardo's obsidian gaze he grew serious. "You know as well as me that something happened in there Mikey isn't tellin' us. That wasn't the smoke, he was screaming like someone was tearing him apart. All the way back he was looking at the shadows like they were going to attack him and now he looks like a hunted animal all wide-eyed and twitchy." He pointed back towards the lair where Michelangelo was. When Leonardo turned his head slightly in that direction he lowered his voice before continuing. "If he's not talking then we find proof and show it to him. Someone did something ta our brother and I'm not gonna stand around when I could be doing something about it!" He ended his speech practically yelling at the top of his lungs and panting with fury. It was the most words they had exchanged for a long time and Raphael was tense, ready to put up a fight. Leonardo had to be able to see things his way on this, right?

Leonardo closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to consider his brothers words. Truth was, he wanted to find answers just as much as Raph did and he was as furious as Raph was. If there was someone to be held responsible for what had happened, God help them. "Let's move." He said in a low voice before darting off into the tunnels. Raph laughed darkly behind him, relieved as he sped up falling into formation as they used to, covering his left side, matching him step for step. The corner of Leo's mouth twitched upwards for the third time today. Just like old times, he thought to himself.


	3. The Darkness Speaks

Chapter 3: The Darkness Speaks

Previously...

Raph laughed darkly behind him, relieved as he sped up falling into formation as they used to, covering his left side, matching him step for step. The corner of Leo's mouth twitched upwards for the third time today. Just like old times, he thought to himself.

Donatello carted Mikey off to the showers and went back into the lab as he waited for him to finish. He knew Raph and Leo were right to be asking questions but as he was now, Mikey wasn't going to give them answers. While Mikey was in shock Donatello had found out several things on his own.

He had started to wipe off the soot and grime off his little brother, looking for any injuries it might be hiding and came across something. There was a considerable amount of blood mixed with ashes caked along his front. It didn't smell fresh, he could smell the decay of a dead human body. It's one of those smells that you never forget. Once you've been in contact with it, it stays with you forever and you could pick it out amongst a dozen others. There was no masking it.

Along the back and sides of his head and biceps there were scratches. They weren't very deep, only enough to raise the skin and break it in a few places. He had done them to himself. Two wide fingers and a thumb, in a position that would indicate they were done by his own hands. After wiping said hands he found skin and blood under his fingernails. He took samples of everything and he was organizing and labelling them in the lab now. When Mikey had come around he had tried to question him about the old blood along his front and he started to go off in another panic. While he was trying to calm his brother down he had been interrupted by the others demanding answers. Mikey had closed in on himself and was not speaking any more.

He heard the door to the rest-rooms swing open and he immediately got up and went to Michelangelo. "Feel any better?"

"Yeah, my head's pounding though." He pressed his hands against the side of his head. "My ears are ringing too." After a moment he lowered them to his sides. The hot shower had felt really good and he was feeling more himself now.

Donatello frowned. "The headache is normal. Inhalation of smoke will do that. You didn't bump your head or anything, did you?"

"Uh, I don't think so. I don't know. I don't remember falling but you guys found me so..."

Donatello placed a hand on his head and felt for any bumps or discolouration. Not finding anything he lead Mikey to his room. "I don't think those scratches need any treatment. Do you know what caused them?"

Mikey swallowed. "I think I might have. My skin was covered in gunk, it was itchy." He raised a hand to feel the swollen welts along his arms and looked away.

"Lets get you to bed then. I'll put you on oxygen for now but if you feel any shortness of breath or the headache gets worse call for someone, okay?" Donatello's worried look wouldn't leave his face. He brought a hand to Mikey's shoulder and rubbed it gently, then took him by the hand and lead him. He could tell that his brother was feeling oddly vulnerable. His voice was still quiet and soft. It reminded him of when he was younger and sought affection from his siblings who would push him away, having grown out of it before he did. He didn't mind babying his little brother a bit if he needed it and it would calm him.

Across the city two turtles watched the police and firemen working at the building on Bleeker Street. A couple of men were rolling out a stretcher with a body bag. There were policemen questioning bystanders and the fire brigade were putting away gear. "So the nut was right. There was someone in the building."

Leonardo's mouth was pressed into a thin line as he observed the scene. From the top of a building on the other side of the street they crouched, looking over the ledge at the humans below. They were too far away to hear anything. He had been hoping the firemen were done and they could go inside to look around. "We won't be able to know anything from here. It could just be a homeless person starting a fire to warm up or cook food or something and he fell asleep letting it spread by accident. We should head home for the night. Come back tomorrow when there's no one around."

"Is that what ya think happened?" Raphael's glare was on his brother. "Mikey saw a homeless man cooking his dinner and started screamin'?" He spat the words out shaking his head. "Somethin' happened in there, Leo. Something is goin' on and we need to find out what it is and fix it!"

Leonardo knew exactly what he meant by 'fix'. He closed his eyes and sighed. "We're still stuck for the night. We can't go in there with all these people around. I'm surprised there isn't a news crew down there. We shouldn't even be this close." He tried to keep his voice low but Raphael had turned and gone to the centre of the roof, pacing. The caged tiger was back. Leonardo got up to get closer to him and not have to raise his voice. "We'll come back tomorrow night and look around."

Raphael had stopped pacing and was shaking his head, arms crossed, tense, with biceps bulging. "We can do something tonight. This is purple dragon territory. We can find some purple punks and shake em for info while the trail is still fresh."

"EX purple dragon territory. The purple dragons aren't organized like they used to be with Hun. The ones who stayed in the business are not in the gang any more. They were absorbed by the Foot hired to be guards or– "

"To do their dirty work. They're still good for nothin' thugs, Leo. Your little 'arrangement' with Karai include them too? What are we supposed to do, look the other way when they go out looking for trouble? We only supposed to stop criminals as long as they're not following the Foot's orders? How does that work? We ask em for credentials before beatin' them up?"

This was it. The mother of all arguments. This was reason for all the bad blood between them, the reason for their violent fight. After Shredder had fallen with the help of Karai they had come to an agreement. The Foot Clan under Karai would keep a tight hold on the criminal activity in New York. No innocents would be pulled in, nothing overt would occur and the turtles would keep out of their way. If they saw a shipment coming in or a deal going down they would leave it be. In exchange the turtles would no longer be persecuted and the violence would be kept to a minimum. Their criminal activities mainly revolved around the black market, medicines mostly, some weapons and illegal drugs. Leonardo didn't like it but it was better than the alternative. How long would his family be able to wage war on them? What could they possibly achieve on their own?

"Is that what you've been doing all those nights when you were out on your own? Don't tell me you were with Casey, you haven't seen him in ages. Do you know what could happen if you break the alliance with the Foot Clan? What were you thinking, Raphael?"

"Don't you 'Raphael' me. I didn't break nothing! Maybe I set a few thugs straight, bashed a few heads. Should I have let them do whatever it was they were doin'? Hold the door open for them while they take shit that don't belong to them? Let them sell drugs to kids? Children, Leo. What have we become? We're just as bad as them corrupt cops that get paid ta turn a blind eye. What are we supposed to do now, Leo?" The tirade had started off loud and angry but Raph deflated as he continued, voice heavy with regret. He was guilty of it too. He had fought Leonardo about it but at the end of the day he wasn't going to run in and stop something if it meant putting his family in the cross-hairs of crazed assassins again. He'd do it if the others were behind him but he wasn't going to be the one to put the people he loved in danger. He wanted them safe. He covered his eyes with his hand and rubbed his face. He was so tired of this. Fighting with his family or ignoring them. He couldn't do it any more. He wanted them back. He wanted a reason to fight with them again, do some good in his city. He needed something to protect, to exist, to live.

Leonardo looked away keeping silent. He wasn't sure what they had become either. He only knew what had happened last time they thought they had rid the city of the Foot Clan. Gang wars and chaos had broken out all over the city as they fought for control over the territory. They had been forced to accept an alliance with Karai then too. They ended up handing the city back to The Shredder and fighting for their lives once more.

In the end Karai had proven to have honour when she helped to defeat her master. It had taken the almost complete annihilation of the multiverse by the hands of The Shredder to open her eyes to what needed to be done, but she had come through. He had trusted her to keep her side of the bargain. He would never say it but it was one of the reasons why they had stopped patrolling. It wasn't just that it wasn't really necessary, there was always some crime left over. It was because none of them wanted to witness what it was they had created. They didn't want to be in a situation where they had to choose not to intervene when they felt they should. His family had already spilt so much blood for this city, though. Surely they had earned a respite. Was this really the lesser of two evils or had they become cowards?

He hadn't seen Karai in almost two years. She had gone back to their base in Japan and left her second in command here a few months after the deal was made. She assured him he would maintain their alliance and was trustworthy. He had never seen the man. Maybe they had started going back to their old ways distanced from their leader. When the cat is away... Leonardo frowned. Perhaps they should keep a closer eye on things. Just to make sure.

"We're coming back tomorrow with the others." He said after a while. Raphael removed his hand from his eyes and his head shot up, a growl ready in his throat. Leo held up a hand indicating he wasn't finished. "If we find anything here that could suggest there is something more going on we'll do it your way. Deal?"

Raphael clenched his jaw, the muscle on his temple twitching as his eyes darted to his brother's obsidian gaze. He didn't like this, he was restless and hurting for some action, someone to take his fury out on. The idea of going back home and getting in bed was the farthest thing from his mind but he figured if he got Leonardo on his side it could be a chance to get rid of the alliance with the Foot and go back to doing what they were supposed to. He needed to get rid of this guilt, of this empty feeling he had in his chest. He was sick of doing nothing all the time, of leaving the lair restless and angry and coming back home frustrated and angry.

He grunted and made to turn back home, walking towards a ledge before speaking again. "In my opinion we already got enough but I'll wait 'til tomorrow because I want Don to go over the building with his tech gadgets so I'll play nice for now." With that he launched off the ledge and to the next rooftop without waiting to see if his brother followed.

Leonardo sighed. He might have only postponed the inevitable fight about the alliance that they had left unfinished last time. He winced. He wasn't going to let things get that far this time, no matter what was said or happened between them. They were brothers, he loved Raph even if he didn't show it. He missed him terribly. He had felt so lonely these past months. He needed them beside him like they used to be.

Donnie used to be his support and that was gone too. He'd look up to him and go to him when he had some new idea or invention, even if Leonardo didn't understand all the science behind it he would listen and ask questions. His brother's excited smile and the way he'd talk quickly about a new discovery was satisfying enough to endure a little lecture on things he had no idea or interest in. He had withdrawn so much from them. At first he had thought to just give Don some space. He was so angry with him and Leo didn't want to fight with another brother. Apathy had kept the things the way they were though. He felt so empty. What use is a ninja, or a ninja leader without a team or a purpose? He had immersed himself in meditation, training and avoiding confrontations. He didn't want to change his mind on his decision but he didn't want to fight for it either. Maybe it wasn't the right decision then? His treacherous mind offered but he squashed the thought as soon as it popped up.

It was useless to keep going on about this in circles. What was done is done. He ran to the ledge his brother had been standing at moments before and launched himself over it. He needed to get his head back in the game. If he was empty he needed to fill himself with purpose, if he was lonely he needed to pull his family back to him. There was no point in pondering if it lead to nothing. There were things to be done.

He sprinted towards the lair, catching up to Raph and settling on his right and slightly ahead. A nostalgic and satisfying feeling filled him when Raph fell into step, matching his pace. It was like breathing in cold air on a hot day. Maybe I could still leash this tiger without it turning on me.

Mikey felt when Raph got home. He hadn't been paying attention to the sounds but the car shifted when he stepped inside and collapsed on his bed. After rolling around a bit he could hear his soft snores. He envied him.

For the past couple hours Michelangelo had been staring up at the ceiling of his room with the light of his bedside lamp on. He had tried turning off the light and getting some sleep but the darkness kept morphing into the shapes of what he had seen in that building. What he thought he saw, he corrected himself. The hissing in his ears was getting worse too but it was better now with the sounds of Raph sleeping on the other side of the panel. He had never been so happy that his brother snored. It gave him something to focus on and he found himself drifting off after a while. He was really tired after all.

Mikey was back in the building, just after going in through the window. There was no smoke or fire, everything was quiet. The crackle of his headset made him jump and he reached a hand up to touch where it sat on the side of his head. He could hear his brothers talking. Leo was telling Don where to approach the building and then their voices faded.

There was whispering coming through the headset now. He remembered that noise. He though it was just the fire that was drowning out everything else but now in the quiet he could make it out. One of the whispering voices was louder than the others. "Find me." It was her voice, HER voice. He swallowed but felt he could do nothing but walk forward, down the hallway. He walked slowly this time, in no rush to reach his destination. "Come to me, Michelangelo." He knew where he was going and when he faltered he heard her again through the headset coming from the direction he needed to go to until he reached the large door.

It was as if he wasn't controlling his body. He was just looking through it's eyes as it lifted a hand and turned the handle into the room. There was no smoke now and the light from the street filtered through the blinds on the windows. She was laying on the floor, where he had found her but that wasn't the only thing on the floor. She was in a large circle painted in what could only be either really bad quality brown paint or blood. There were symbols around the edge on the interior of it and she lay prone in the middle, spread eagle like that Da Vinci dude's drawing.

Leonardo, heh, Leonardo Da Vinci.

The room filled with smoke again and it was just as it was that night. "Help me." He heard her voice say over the earphone. He leaned down to lift her up, one arm under her shoulders and another under her knees knowing what would happen but unable to do anything else. He heard himself apologize as she came apart in his hands. Her body was unclothed and had been chopped up and placed back together on the floor by someone. Maybe they had just sliced her on the floor and left her that way. The arms and legs fell from her torso and the head rolled away with his quick turn. He could hear the noise the cranium made as it rolled across the wooden floor, the hair sliding along the boards and the dull thump as it hit the wall in the dark corner of the room by the door.

He had looked down then to understand what was happening and it was then that he had heard her voice for the first time. "No, Michelangelo. Put me back together." It didn't come from his headset this time. It came from the corner of the room, behind and to the side of him, right in the corner of his eye.

"Severed heads don't talk." He said nervously, stepping back from the body parts and holding out his blood-covered hands away from his body but not turning to look.

"Look at me, Michelangelo. Put me back together. Help me." He turned slowly, his breath coming in quick shallow puffs. In the corner was the head of the woman, right where he knew it would be. The face was covered up by the long blonde hair that had wrapped around it when it rolled. "Please, help me."

This is messed up. He took a step forward. I don't believe in ghosts, maybe I should start. He walked over to the head. "Put me back together." The severed head said again. He lifted it gingerly and walked back to the body, placing it on the floor where it had been. He moved the other body parts in place with his foot. This is SO messed up.

With a trembling hand and a shaking exhale he pulled the hair out of the way and looked at her face. Her mouth was open, frozen in a scream or gasping for air, a thick layer of black blood coating the inside and oozing sticky over the edge of the lips. Her eyes were opened and rolled upwards, the pupils hidden under her eyelids only showing the bottom of her blue irises.

Job done, he reached over to close her eyelids but they wouldn't budge. Oh well. He made to turn and get the heck out of there when the body surged upwards, hands latching onto his shoulders firmly and taking him down flat on his carapace. He yelped and looked up at the woman, now straddling him. Her head was lolling back split at the neck seemingly only held on by a strand. There was thick-black blood pouring from that wound over his body. He struggled, screaming as he realised he couldn't move at all. It was as if she weighed a ton and there was something holding him down from the floor, his body firmly stuck to the ground when she pushed on it and he couldn't lift his arms and legs again even after she let go.

She moved up on his body and forced his mouth open with her fingers. He tried to bite down and pull his head to the side but she kept his jaw open. With one palm on his chin, the other over his snout covering his nostrils and her fingers curled over his teeth and in his mouth she pulled open his jaw as wide as it could go. He was screaming at the top of his lungs now when he realised what she was going to do. She rose up on her knees tipping slightly so the gaping wound in her neck would spill the black blood into him. His scream cut off abruptly as the liquid hit the back of his throat and covered his tongue but he was in too much of a panic to hold his breath and he choked it down in gargled gasps for air, coughing and writhing underneath her.

It burned. It burned horribly. The vapours coming off of it were foul as well and his eyes were watering. After what was only probably a minute but felt like an eternity the body collapsed off of him, the torso and one arm falling to the side, the head rolling back into the corner. "Help me, Michelangelo." It said without moving it's mouth.

The moment he was able, Michelangelo shot up and ran out of the room and down the hallway. "Help me." He was spitting and coughing. That horrible taste in his mouth burning through his throat, his internal ear and nostrils. He could feel that fire in his chest, in his stomach, like a painful acid eating him. He collapsed after taking a few corners, gagging. He made to put his fingers in his throat to force it all up but his hands were covered in the stuff too. He closed his eyes and did it anyway but it wasn't working. Nothing was coming up.

"No, Michelangelo. Don't fight it. It will only hurt more. Help me." He tore the headset off him and threw it away but the voice continued in his ear, in his head. He could feel the burn taking over his whole body. It was in his muscles, under his skin.

"Stop! STOP! What do you want from me?!" He yelled. The whispering was back and her voice kept saying the same things over and over in his ear. He was scratching his head, his arms but he was getting dizzy from all the smoke or from him hyperventilating, he wasn't sure which. Probably both. His vision was going black along the edges and then he blacked out completely.

Michelangelo woke up with a start, shooting up into a sitting position. He wondered if he had been screaming in his sleep and listened to the noises of the lair expecting his brothers to come barrelling into his room but there was only silence and the sound of his breathing. His sheets were bunched up against his clammy skin, tangling his legs and his light was off. He was sweating and panting. His hand shot out to turn the lamp back on. Someone must have come in to check on him, tucked him in and turned it off.

With the light back on he calmed down a bit. It was just a dream, a crazy messed up dream. He tried to get his breathing back under control closing his mouth and breathing in through his nostrils. That stuff didn't really happen. I must have been trippin' with all the smoke. The building was old, who knows what kind of nasty gasses or chemicals there were in that air... I might have tripped in a hallway and bumped my head, dreamed the whole thing up. It's all right, everything is all right.

Finally calmed down he started to pull on the sheets to untangle his legs. "Help me, Michelangelo." He froze. Her voice was coming from the darkened end of the room in the corner of his eye. This isn't happening. There's nothing there. He couldn't turn his head to look. He could feel the burning again, in his chest, under his skin. "Put me back together."

He screamed.


	4. Whispering Shadows

Chapter 4: Whispering Shadows

Previously.

"Help me, Michelangelo." He froze. Her voice was coming from the darkened end of the room in the corner of his eye. This isn't happening. There's nothing there. He couldn't turn his head to look. He could feel the burning again, in his chest, under his skin. "Put me back together."

He screamed.

Michelangelo launched himself off the bed, tripping over his sheets and slammed into the door as he twisted the handle, charging into his startled red-banded brother who fell onto his carapace with a loud clap. The door, swinging open quickly with the force of his barrage, banged against the outside of the car leaving a dent and then bounced back snapping shut.

"What the fuck, Mikey!?" Raphael exclaimed after regaining his breath that was knocked out of him on impact. Leonardo and Donatello ran up to them both wearing concerned expressions.

Michelangelo looked around him wide-eyed, panting heavily. He seemed scared out of his mind. After a moment of silence Donatello crouched to help him off Raph but he flinched away and scooted off staying his hands and knees beside his brother. He closed his eyes firmly, trying to steady his breaths.

"Mikey, what-?" Donatello started but stopped when he noticed his little brother was shaking badly and failing to control his breathing. "Okay, okay, try breathing in through your nose and out through you mouth." He knelt beside him, a hand on his carapace that Mikey didn't flinch away from this time. "It's okay, Mikey, you're safe. Was it a nightmare?"

Mikey's eyes kept going back to the door to his room as he tried to listen to Donatello and copy the breathing rhythm he was demonstrating. Leonardo noticed. "Mikey, what's wrong? What happened?"

Don glared up at him, shaking his head. "Give him a minute, Leo."

Mikey shook his head, still too out of it to form words. He heard a rolling sound coming from inside the car, on the other side of the door, a dull thump as something hit the wall coming to a stop. His frightened stare fell on the door and he started breathing heavily again, waiting for something to happen.

Leonardo turned around to follow his eyes, wondering what could have scared him so much. "Mikey? What is it?"

Not receiving any answer, only Mikey's continuous head shaking he stepped towards the door. "No!" Mikey latched onto Leonardo's arm without thinking. "Don't!" He was shaking violently making his words come out in a strange tremulous high pitch that set Leo's teeth on edge. He pulled out of Mikey's grasp and pulled the door open carefully on high alert, peering inside and looking around before stepping in the room slowly, Donatello on his heels.

They came out after a few seconds, Michelangelo kept his eyes closed the entire time, waiting to hear something. "It's all right. Don't worry about it Mikey, these things happen. You don't have to be embarrassed." Michelangelo looked up at Donatello, confused. "You had a really bad nightmare, right? I'll help you change the bedsheets, why don't you head into the shower to wash off?"

"What? Fuck, that was it? Damn, Mikey, you hadn't wet the bed since ya were a kid and the time you do ya have to fall all over me. That's just great."

Just then Michelangelo noticed the sharp scent of urine and the wetness between his legs and down his thighs. His face heated in shame and he looked away. It didn't damp the relief he felt after Don and Leo made sure there was nothing in his room though. "C'mon, let's hit the showers." Raphael hauled his little brother off the ground by an arm and started pulling him in the direction of the rest-rooms. "Might as well get up already, it's almost time anyway."

Master Splinter was just outside his own room leaning heavily on the door watching the whole exchange. He waited until it was only the three of them before slowly walking over. Leonardo and Donatello met him halfway. "My sons, is everything all right? Perhaps we should have explanations over breakfast when they are done cleaning up."

"Are you sure you are up for it, Sensei? If you are feeling unwell I think I can handle it-"

"I am fine, Leonardo. I wish to hear Michelangelo myself. I am worried for him and I do not think I will be able to rest until I do." He headed over to the kitchen slowly and Leo waited until he passed by them to see if he would require help. When he didn't stop Leo made eye contact with Don and moved his head towards Mikey's bedroom. Donatello nodded and went inside.

Mikey let himself be lead away by his brother in silence. He was surprised there wasn't more teasing. If their places were reversed... No, if this would have happened to Raphael he would be worried sick. He glanced at the back of his older brother's head, so why wasn't Raph freaking out?

Raphael was trying very hard to hide his unease and worry. He could still feel the muscles in Mikey's arm tremble under his fingers. He didn't understand what was going on. Why wouldn't he talk to them? He would expect this kind of behaviour from Leonardo who was always hiding everything he felt from the others but Mikey would never hesitate to ask for help when he needed it.

He pulled Mikey behind him through the door with the ladies' room sign on it. He dropped his arm to fiddle with the knobs until the temperature of the water was just right and then shoved Mikey under the spray when he wouldn't take the hint to go himself. He was acting like a zombie now, letting himself be moved around without uttering a word.

Mikey gasped and jumped away. "Raphie! Too hot!"

Raphael grinned despite himself at the reaction and decided to let the nickname slide. It used to bother him a lot when they'd let it slip but he realised that more often than not they'd use it when they were frightened or needed his reassurance like when they were kids. He was certain that they sometimes didn't even realised they'd called him that. "C'mon ya wimp, it's fine. It's just a little hot water."

Michelangelo shook his head and adjusted the temperature a little. Raphael loved to take his showers scalding hot. To him, anything colder was just lukewarm. Donatello used to say that it could be because for some inexplicable reason Raphael's temperature ran slightly warmer than the others. Mikey used to joke that it must be because he needed that kind of heat to get rid of his sweaty stink after practice, to sterilize the grossness. He always had to cut his showers short and run out before Raph had a chance to slap him upside the head. He made no such comment this time. The water was soothing his frayed nerves as much as his strong brother's presence. When Raph pushed a lathered-up sponge into his hands he started to wipe himself down mechanically, closing his eyes and leaning forward a bit when Raph went to work on his carapace with a brush.

"Ya still got soot all over ya." He said as way of explanation. It was half-true and he scrubbed at the dirt that had lodged itself between his scutes. He really only wanted to take that frightened look off of his little brother's face but he wasn't one for cuddles and shit. This was the best he was able to give, so he did.

Inside Michelangelo's bedroom Leonardo helped Donatello remove the sheets and pillow cases on his brother's bed. Donnie bundled it up and prepared to leave the room but Leo stopped him. "Don." His voice was strained. It was the closest thing to pleading he was going to get. He needed to know what was happening. How could he help when he didn't know what he needed to fix?

Donatello sighed. He put his bundle down and turned to his brother. "I know, Leo. Something isn't right. I think Mikey saw something or was involved in something in that building while we couldn't reach him over the communicator and he's not telling us."

"Raphael and I saw them take a body out of the building last night when we went back. We think it was the person Mikey saw." Leonardo was relieved to be having this conversation. He needed Donatello on his side for this. He suspected it wouldn't be going so smoothly if he had tried in front of the others.

"Maybe." Donatello paused a moment as he went over his findings. "I think it's more likely that the person in the body bag was dead long before the fire." Leonardo's eyes snapped up to his brother's. "When I examined Mikey last night he had blood all over his body." He gestured towards his chest and swept his hand downwards indicating where he meant. When Leonardo look startled he waved off his concern. "It wasn't his, it was old blood, lots of it. The kind of amount that could indicate he was in contact with a cadaver or at the very least the scene of a murder. My tests show that the blood is, in fact, human. We didn't see it because he was caked in ashes and dirt." He paused to gauge Leonardo's reaction to the information.

Leonardo turned his gaze to the floor, his eyes darting side to side as he took in the information. "So there were at least two people in the building, Mikey may have been chasing the killer and came across the murderer's victim. Why didn't he tell us about this?"

"I think that is assuming too much. The perpetrators may have been gone from the scene when Mikey arrived. I'm not sure why he wouldn't say anything, only that he seems frightened, extremely frightened. It's as if he's expecting someone to be hunting him, something around every corner. I'm not sure what could have scared him like that."

"Or whom. I'm going to assume Mikey did see someone. Maybe they did something to him to scare him. Maybe he was threatened or they threatened to go after us if he spoke up?" Leonardo had his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face as he thought over the possibilities. He didn't like it, the kind of people who could have that power over Mikey, the power needed to bring harm to his family were supposed to be allies. Perhaps he saw something he shouldn't have and they thought he was interfering, putting their alliance at risk.

"I am running some more tests on the samples I took but there isn't much more to find out without returning to the scene."

Leonardo nodded his agreement. "We need to convince Mikey to speak to us and go back to the building tonight. You're coming, right?"

"Of course. I'll prepare my gear. I need to check over the communicators and Mikey's tracker to see why it malfunctioned before we leave, though." Donatello picked up the bundle of sheets and headed to the door, Leonardo right behind him to help him put the items into the old washing machine they had under one end of the kitchen counter. He turned it on before washing his hands in the sink.

Donatello did the same and then went straight for the coffee machine while Leo prepared a pot of tea and put some bread in the toaster. Their father was on the couch nearby watching the news but rose with difficulty and headed over to them when the kettle whistled. Leonardo quickly went over to the other side of the table and pulled out one of the mismatched chairs at the head of the table for him to sit down, setting a tea cup in front of him. Splinter nodded his thanks and pat his arm when he leaned over to set a plate by the cup. Then, they waited.

Raphael was getting jumpy with the silence. He was hoping Mikey would loosen up but it wasn't happening. As they were drying off Mikey had started getting nervous and jumpy again. Raphael fought the urge to turn his head in the directions Mikey's frightened eyes kept darting to. He was starting to feel stupid. There was nothing there.

"Okay, Mikey, I am done with this. You are going to tell me what the shell is going on. What happened in that building, bro?"

Mikey jumped and looked to Raphael as if he had forgotten he was standing right by him. "W-what? Nothing happened. You know what happened in the building. I went in, I breathed some smoke, I passed out."

"Bull. Shit." He poked at Mikey's plastron with each word. "I know when you're lyin' bro. What about the dude you saw in the window?"

"It was just a shadow. There was no one else in the building. No one. The building was empty." His voice was quiet as he repeated the same statement different ways.

"Leo and I went back, ya know? There were cops and shit all over the place. They pulled out a body bag on a stretcher. Someone was in the building and I figure you know-" His voice faded when he glanced back at his brother.

Mikey was looking at Raphael with a terrified expression. "A body bag?" W-what do you mean a body bag?"

"What do ya mean what do I mean?! A friggin body bag! You know, the kind with dead bodies in them?"

It didn't happen. It couldn't have happened. Michelangelo swallowed. What if it did happen? He glanced at Raphael who was standing there with his arms crossed expecting an answer. "It wasn't... I mean I'm not... I don't know what I saw. It was dark and I was wiggin' with all the smoke." He walked towards the door and went into the kitchen where the rest of the family waited for them.

Raphael barged out into the kitchen as the others turned to them. "I don't care about that! Just tell us what you think you saw."

"It was dark, I was imagining things, it didn't happen."

"What didn't happen, Mikey?" Donatello asked his agitated brother in what he hoped was a calm voice.

"Nothing! I thought I saw someone in there, turns out there was no one there. End of story."

"Tell us what you think you saw, my son. I am certain that whether it was your imagination or a result of the circumstances, it would soothe our minds to hear it."

Master Splinter's voice cut through to Mikey. He couldn't refuse his father's order, it was ingrained into him to obey that voice. Why was he so adamant about keeping it to himself? It wouldn't be the first time he'd put voice to a crazy assumption or idea he had imagined. Saying it out loud would make her real, though, and it wasn't. It wasn't real, nothing that is happening to me is real. They're going to think I'm crazy.

There was a heavy rolling sound and a dull thump. "They're going to think you're crazy." Her voice came from behind and to the side of him, just out of sight, putting voice to the thought floating in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his family around him. His brothers that were real and flesh and bone right in front of him. "You can't tell them, Michelangelo." The voice said sadly.

Mikey tensed. There's nothing there. I am imagining you. It's the stress and toxic fumes.

"Look at me, Michelangelo." He opened his eyes and turned around slowly to the shadowed corner. He didn't notice the confused look on his brothers as they watched his every move. There, by Raphael's weights was a lump that could be... it couldn't. Mikey slowly walked to the wall on the other side of the door to the storage room and touched his hand to a switch. Raphael's bench and weights were immediately bathed in light showing a bunched up towel in the corner. He sighed audibly, his whole body deflating with the breath he had been holding and yelped when a hand touched his shoulder.

Donatello had at some point risen from his chair and walked over to him. "Mikey?"

This was crazy. He was acting crazy and he needed to stop acting crazy if he wanted his brothers to not think he was crazy. "Yes?" His voice sounded soft and vulnerable to his ears and he stopped the wince it provoked in him. Well done trying not to worry them, his mind offered sarcastically.

Donatello reached over and turned off the light without taking his eyes from his little brother. He lead Mikey to the kitchen table and to a seat. "Want some toast? Leonardo was making some." He tried to act as if his brother wasn't acting strangely and the others caught on, immediately moving into their normal actions during breakfast.

Raphael didn't. He stayed there, standing just outside the door to the rest rooms watching Mikey intently. "Why don't we have some breakfast before going into anything? I'm sure hungry, aren't you, Raph?" Donatello gave Raphael a pointed look that he completely missed.

"I agree. Raphael, why don't you sit down. I believe there is still some of that chocolate spread you favour." Master Splinter kindly offered with a smile but Raphael understood it wasn't a suggestion. He grunted and walked over to his usual spot.

Leonardo set down a plate of toast and went to grab Mikey's juice from the fridge. Mikey was sitting there, pale faced and silent. When he placed the bottle in front of him Mikey went to reach it and pulled his hand back quickly as if burned. Leonardo watched as his brother stared at the black hand print on the bottle while rubbing his fingers with his thumb. "Uh, sorry about that. Raph got some soot on it last night. Let me get that for you." He pulled the bottle away noticing Mikey's eyes following it until he wiped it clean and placed it back. Mikey made no move to touch it again.

This was nuts. Mikey had felt the burn in his fingers when he touched the mark. It was spreading over his hand and down his arm now. He was trying really hard to stay calm and to listen to his brothers over the hissing in his ears but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Donatello said his name from across the table and he tried to give him his attention but the hissing was becoming a whispering he couldn't make out the words to.

A noise startled him at his side and he tore his eyes from Don to watch Leonardo catch a rolling apple before it fell off the edge of the table. His mouth moved in what Mikey thought was an apology but he couldn't hear it. Everything around him was feeling like a dream, completely unreal. The air felt so thick he could hardly breathe or move, as if he were underwater. The whispering was thundering in his ears now and he fought the urge to cover them with his hands. That would be weird, you're acting weird, stop acting weird, they're starting to look at you funny.

Raphael shifted beside him and Mikey's eyes darted to his mouth. His mouth opened to reveal a black coating of blood on the inside, dripping from the corner of his lips. Suddenly the whispering had stopped and Raphael said, "Put me back together, Michelangelo."

Michelangelo shot out of his chair so fast that it toppled over. "W-what did you say?"

Raphael gave him an odd look, tilted his head and said, "Are you okay, you don't look so good. You look like you've seen a ghost." He was rising slowly and taking a careful step towards him.

"Ha ha," he laughed weakly, "I must have misheard you." It wasn't blood, it was chocolate, he was eating chocolate. What's wrong with you? "I'm okay, everything's okay."

Michelangelo was still retreating from them while he spoke until the back of his legs hit the couch and he nearly fell over it. Leonardo reached for the toppled chair and carefully set it back upright. "We were just talking about how there was blood on you last night, Mikey."

"Blood? There was blood on me?" He seemed sort of dazed as he answered the question with another question.

"Whose blood was it, Mikey?" Donatello was speaking slowly now, approaching him as well but something else caught his attention and the hand that was going towards Michelangelo's shoulder went to the remote instead turning up the volume on the television set.

"An accident? Or a means to cover up a crime?" The female reporter said in a serious tone. "Officials reported to have found the mutilated body of 22 year old Deborah Wesly. Deborah, originally from The Netherlands, was reported missing 6 months ago when she failed to show up to the hotel her classmates and teacher were staying at during a trip to this city organized by her university." A picture of Deborah popped up on screen showing her smiling with a couple other girls.

Everyone's head turned as Mikey started laughing, the sound shrill and too loud. "Deborah!" He was shaking his head as his laughter became hysterical, leaning on the couch to keep himself upright. Donatello reached over to him when he noticed tears streaking down his cheeks, his eyes wild.

The burning was back and all over his body now. He could smell the foul fumes in his nostrils. His brothers were now frightened as they went to him and touched his burning body, they were moving their mouths but he couldn't hear them speaking. The whispering was drowning out even his own breathless laughter and when he looked at the television to Deborah's picture he heard her voice from the corner of the room, "Help me, Michelangelo."


	5. Confession

Chapter 5: Confession

Previously.

The burning was back and all over his body now. He could smell the foul fumes in his nostrils. His brothers were now frightened as they went to him and touched his burning body, they were moving their mouths but he couldn't hear them speaking. The whispering was drowning out even his own breathless laughter and when he looked at the television to Deborah's picture he heard her voice from the corner of the room, "Help me, Michelangelo."

Master Splinter, Raphael, Leonardo and Donatello were sitting around the kitchen table in silence since Donatello got back from Mikey's room. They were all still a bit shaken at what had happened and were trying to make sense of it. Michelangelo had seemed completely unhinged after seeing the report of the dead girl. There was no doubt in their minds that he had seen the body in the building, maybe something else as well.

They had been unable to calm him down or get anything from him afterwards. Donatello had resorted to a firm shake which had quieted the awful laughter momentarily before it turned into desperate sobs. Donatello had steered him away from the television and tried to get him to speak. Leonardo and Raphael were shocked into silence and just stared at the scene playing out in front of them like some tv drama. Mikey had clung to Don and tried to tell him something between his cries and trying to gulp down air but what he could make out didn't make any sense. It had sounded as if he had encountered this girl, Deborah, alive and tried to help her.

"I did what she said, she needed help." He had been able to explain between gasps of air, voice breaking as he tried to swallow his cries. "They chopped her up and put her back together and I didn't know. I didn't notice until I tried to pick her up! I didn't mean to... I was trying to help."

He kept repeating those words as if he were trying to convince Donatello that he had meant her no harm and seeing his brother's anguish he had tried to play along and comfort him, agreeing with Mikey even though Donatello wasn't sure what he was saying.

"He must have stumbled across her body inside the burning building," Donatello voiced at last, breaking the long silence. He had had to give his brother some medication to help him relax and sleep when he couldn't get him out of his agitated state. He had told Mikey it was for his headache and in case the smoke had been poisonous when Mikey had refused to take anything. By that point Mikey was saying he didn't want to help the girl any more and only wanted her to go away. Go away? Is that why he's afraid? He believes she is here?

It had been enough to make up his mind about the drugs. Mikey was acting strangely and in his agitated state it seemed like the most logical thing to do. He lied to his little brother, gave him a fast acting sedative and put him to bed shortly after. He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. He wasn't sure what to do about this, he felt just as lost as his brothers looked. He knew they were waiting for him to hand over an explanation, the answer to everything, to shake a bottle of pills like a magic wand and fix whatever was wrong with Mikey.

He gave a long sigh when no one else spoke, not even Master Splinter. They had all heard and seen the same thing he did and yet no one wanted to talk about it. He felt irritation and anger start bubbling up inside him. Leonardo had been hounding them all during the past week trying to get back into his leadership role. He admitted he had been difficult on purpose, he didn't really see a point to it all. They weren't going to do any missions or any real patrolling anyway. Why should he waste his time? Leonardo was no more fit to lead them in an inane jog around the neighbourhood than he was. Pretending they were actually doing anything else was a farce but as much as he argued his point, Leonardo wasn't leaving him alone and he had agreed to going out only to get it done with and go back to his online tech service job. Master Splinter's medication wasn't going to buy itself and he was the only brother actually doing anything to bring in a pay check.

He ground his teeth together as his irritation turned into a low sizzle in his chest. Now was the only time he actually needed Leonardo to get his stuff together and lead, say something, anything, and he was just facing Donatello expectantly. "I'll speak to him again when he wakes up. He should be calmer but I'd rather do it alone to avoid any unnecessary anxiety. I don't want him to feel interrogated or pressured and I certainly don't want a repeat of what happened a while ago."

All eyes shifted uncomfortably away from him at that. Leonardo cleared his throat and nodded his agreement, standing as he mentally shook himself to try take hold of the situation. He could feel Donatello's frown and Master Splinter's disapproval at his hesitation, but he honestly didn't know what to do or say about what had just transpired without seeming... lost.

There was something he did know what to do about though, "Okay, for now there isn't much else we can do. We'll wait to hear your evaluation later and then decide if we can take Michelangelo back to the site of the fire tonight. We'll go either way as soon as it's dark enough but leave him behind if he's not up to it. We still need to know if there was anyone else in that building that could have said or done something to Mikey."

There was silence once again as they nodded and kept their sights on the table, frowns on their faces. They had all faced death before. It used to happen all the time back when they were fighting the foot clan on a daily basis. It was hard to believe that finding a corpse could have that effect on one of them. They were no strangers to the terrible things humans could do to each other. Even they had dealt death themselves when it was absolutely necessary though always in the heat of battle and never with excessive violence... most of the time.

Leonardo's eyes flicked to Raphael for a moment and his obsidian gaze connected for a second as Raphael lifted his amber eyes at his scrutiny. Raphael was twitchy and impatient. He knew that look. He wanted this meeting over with to go burn off his anxious energy on his punching bag or go for a run through the tunnels. "For now there's nothing more to discuss. Come get me once you know anything, Don. I expect everyone to be ready to leave an hour before dusk. We'll decide our best plan of action then."

They each went their separate ways after that. It was nearly lunch but no one was in the mood for a family meal. Leonardo prepared soup and a sandwich for his father and took it to his room. He was sitting up in his bed and lowered his head slightly in thanks at the offered food before dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

Before Leonardo made it to the door, though, Splinter made him pause. "You must fix this, Leonardo. Find whoever did this to your brother and fix whatever happened to him. Lean on your brothers for support, use their strengths in your benefit to do what is needed but this is your responsibility alone."

Leonardo stopped his flinch at his father's words and turned to face him, head bowed. He had felt his disapproval when he had stepped back and let Donatello handle everything during the incident with Mikey and again when he hesitated in the meeting just after. "Yes, Master Splinter."

Splinter's face softened and he nodded slowly. "I won't be here forever, Leonardo. You'll have to take my place as head of the family once I am gone and I want to make sure you know your place in this clan before that happens. We shall speak again tomorrow morning."

With that the conversation was over and Leonardo headed to the meditation room. He had a lot in his head and he needed to clear it for later. He wasn't sure what his place in this clan was any more. Was he trying to force himself to fit a role that was no longer needed or wanted? Somehow he felt that he was pushing his brothers away instead of bringing them together when he tried to regain the old dynamic of the ninja team and yet... for a while they had fit together like they used to when they went out together last night. Maybe he could do this.

Michelangelo's sleep was anything but peaceful. He had realised his brother had drugged him when he felt his muscles slacken and his vision started blurring. He had felt the strange drug-induced relaxation before but couldn't really bring himself to blame Donnie for his ruse. He had needed it. In the moment he had thought he needed to fight something, to put voice to those crazy thoughts that invaded his mind. Now that he was calmer he could recognize the strangeness of his actions, how odd the irrational terror had felt and how wrong it was to think he had to keep hidden from the others. Those thoughts were not his, they were intruding and overtaking his own emotions and understanding.

There were no voices or whisperings now. There never had been, he thought to himself. It's all in my head and my head isn't working right. Cold fear crept up his spine, a fear he recognized as his own. It was the thick, heavy weight of someone who is becoming aware of losing control over his mind. He wiped the sweat from his face with a trembling hand and swallowed thickly. Something was happening to him and he couldn't stop it or understand it. He had spent the few hours of restless sleep dreaming of that room, obsessing in the symbols on the floor and walls, of walking the halls and opening that door over and over again.

He needed to get help before the thoughts returned. Throughout the morning from the moment he had woken up the thoughts and sounds had been increasing in intensity until they had felt absolutely real, even more so than his own brother's voices. They weren't completely gone. He could feel them as muted suggestions in the back of his mind but he could distinguish them from reality.

For the moment.

A sense of urgency took over to look for Donatello. He rose up from his bed determined to do it before he lost his courage, before something else popped into his head telling him otherwise. Donnie will know what to do, he'll fix it. He'll fix me. His hand hovered over the handle while he pulled himself together, breathed in deeply a few times, straightened his back and opened the door.

Donatello remained silent as he observed his brother sitting in front of him. He was on a chair in the infirmary picking at the frayed edge of the blanket draped over the cot while Don stood, leaning against the metal examination table behind him. One arm was crossed in front of his plastron holding onto his elbow as he touched his chin with his free hand. He tried to keep his expression open and friendly. He had thought he would have to hunt Michelangelo down and pressure him into talking but he was surprised Mikey had sought him out on his own. Now he was trying to process his words carefully.

"So... the head spoke to you." It was meant to be a question but his incredulity made it out to be a statement he hoped Mikey would correct. "Then when she was back together she forced you to drink her blood."

Mikey groaned and pressed a hand to his pounding temple. They had been here for a couple hours. He was sick of having to repeat himself over and over again. He sighed, exasperated. This wasn't going as he had thought. "Look, I'm not saying that's what really happened. I might have been knocked out or intoxicated or something. I'm just saying that's what I remember. I know it sounds crazy but it felt so real! It was freaking me out."

"Right, so... You think she was, what, a zombie? A ghost? Why did you say you wanted her gone, Mikey? What aren't you telling me?" He spread his hands out with his palms open. He needed more information if he was going to unravel this... this mess and even though he was thankful for Mikey's open disposition he was also worried about what he was hearing. What he wasn't being told was probably even worse and he was struggling to not show his alarm.

"I don't think anything! I just... I kept hearing her in my head over and over and it was just, I dunno. I thought I was losing it. You wanted to know what was going on with me, well here it is. What's wrong with me? Did I hit my head and damage something? Was it the smoke? Can smoke even do that?"

Donatello held out his hand to stop him. "Wait, Mikey, I don't know yet, it's too soon to say." He rubbed an eye with his knuckles. He didn't even know what to do with this information. What was he telling him? That he believed in ghosts? What was the diagnosis for that? Insanity? He wasn't a psychiatrist or a neurologist but it wasn't like they could walk into a hospital for a check up. He couldn't even get his brother an MRI or a CAT scan to rule out any internal damage. He didn't have access to that kind of equipment and even if he did he didn't know what he was looking for. Once he found something or ruled that out, then what?

"Do you hear things constantly? Is she here now?" He tried to keep his voice level and casual, his demeanour calm and open. "Do you see anything or is it just the voices?" At Mikey's worried look he added, "It's very important to be accurate with this to pin-point the problem."

Michelangelo touched his fingers to his lips and thought about his answer carefully. He was relieved his brother was taking it so well, he didn't seem shocked or scared or anything. He probably had a few theories about what this was already. "I haven't actually seen anything, it's more like a feeling. I know she's in the dark where I can't see. Sometimes it's like I see a shadow that's really something else but it has the same size or shape and I think it's her, or I hear something and I mistake it for something she said." He shuddered at the memory of Raph saying those words to him. "I only hear the voices though. Sometimes I know they are in my head but then other times I can hear it coming from a direction. I actually hear it with the echo of the lair and everything like I hear your voice. When they get too loud I can't hear anything else above the noise."

He paused again and thought about it a bit longer, going over what had happened since he returned to the lair. "When it gets really bad I can also feel... burning under my skin. Like there's poison in my veins or something. I felt it when I... with the black blood back at the room." He gazed up at him with his head lowered, pleading eyes begging to be believed, to be helped. "I can't stop thinking about the room, the symbols. Maybe..." he paused, he needed to say this even if his brother wouldn't believe him, "Maybe there really was some sort of incantation in those symbols on the walls and they did something to me and now I'm being haunted or something?" He cursed as his voice trembled and broke at the end. Don had frozen at the last sentence. Shell, he looked scared. He shouldn't have said it but, there was a chance, right? A chance that it wasn't him, that it was all real. He needed to say it.

Donatello quickly schooled his face back into a neutral expression. This was bad. He was mentally ticking off the criteria he remembered reading in a psychiatry manual he got years ago from April when he had been interested in trying to help Leatherhead with his PSTD. He needed to consult it again but he was certain that what Michelangelo was telling him was consistent with schizophrenia. They were also in their early twenties, at the right age to develop the mental illness. There were still many variables he had to examine, though, and the symptoms had developed abruptly...

Had they? He tried to think about Mikey's behaviour in the previous months but came to a blank. He had only briefly seen or conversed with him when Mikey came with coffee or a sandwich in the lab. He had been so isolated from his brothers, so distant. What was he going to do about this? Even if he was right Michelangelo would have to be medicated for life. How would they even get the medicine? The kinds of drugs needed weren't exactly over the counter meds and would they even work with their physiology as they were meant to? Some of them had dreadful side effects.

"We're going back to the building, right? I want to take another look at those symbols. Take pictures or something to see what we're dealing with. Where are the ghost busters when you need them, huh?" He started laughing but stopped when he realised his brother wasn't laughing with him, he wasn't even smiling.

"You're not going, Mikey. Until we know what's wrong you need to stay here in the lair. If it is some sort of head injury you could put yourself in danger or aggravate your condition."

"I need to do this, Donnie. I need to see it myself to know that I wasn't crazy and it's all in my head! Or... to convince myself that it isn't real."

Donatello's pressed his lips together considering the options. His initial instinct was to keep Mikey in his room until he could come up with a solution, locked up if necessary, but maybe it was best to take him along to observe and gather more information. He nodded after thinking it over. "All right, Mikey, but you can't over exert yourself, you can't go off on your own and if you experience any symptoms like the ones you describe me or anything new you have to tell me immediately." He ticked off his conditions on his fingers. "Deal?"

"Deal."

A huge weight was taken off his shoulders. He knew he could count on his brother to make things right. Everything was going to be fine now. He couldn't help himself so he got up and took a long step towards his brother before he could make to leave the infirmary. He captured his brainy brother in a tight hug, looping his arms around his waist and pressing his palms to his carapace. He hooked his chin over a shoulder and closed his eyes as he squeezed with all his strength, trying to convey his gratitude and his love for him in that moment. They didn't do this often enough.

"Unnng, gaaah, Mikey, I can't breathe! Okay, okay, I love you too little brother just stop squishing me, please!" He pat his brothers carapace and then tried pulling him off but couldn't help the smile taking over his mouth.

Mikey chuckled at the strangled, exaggerated complaints his brother was making, turned his head and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek, grinning widely at the petulant huff he got in response. Satisfied, he released him and walked out of the infirmary. "You're my favourite brother, Don, I ever tell you?" Feeling much better he went to get ready to leave not noticing the way his brother's shoulders now sagged with the added weight the moment he had turned his back on him.


	6. Communion

Previously.

Mikey chuckled at the strangled, exaggerated complaints his brother was making, turned his head and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek, grinning widely at the petulant huff he got in response. Satisfied, he released him and walked out of the infirmary. "You're my favourite brother, Don, I ever tell you?" Feeling much better he went to get ready to leave not noticing the way his brother's shoulders now sagged with the added weight the moment he had turned his back on him.

Three brothers watched the fourth in silence as he stood in a soot-blackened room and gawked. "It was here! I swear Don, it was right here!" Michelangelo walked over to the stain of blood on the wood floor and waved his arm in a circular motion around it. "There were symbols in a circle, drawn in blood right over here. And-and over here," he rushed to one of the walls and made a large sweeping horizontal gesture, "This was all covered in writing, the same kind of writing. I swear, Don, I am not making this up."

Raphael grimaced as he examined the stain and the empty walls. "Well there's nothing here now, this is a waste of time. What are we standin' around for?"

Leonardo crouched down and examined the footprints. He was the best tracker of the group and they had gone over the whole building finding nothing conclusive. With the work of the firemen to put out the fire and searching every room they had walked over any signs of anyone else leaving the building. That person either hadn't existed or left the same way the firemen got in. He glanced at Donatello. He seemed the most upset, besides Mikey, about the evidence, or lack thereof, they had come across.

Donatello took a few more photos of the room from different angles and at different distances frowning the whole time. He handed the camera to Leonardo as he rummaged in his bag and took out a spray bottle and an ultra-violet flash light. The sun hadn't gone down completely yet but it was dark enough. He sprayed the liquid over the area Michelangelo had indicated and turned on the light. The bodily fluids of the stain immediately shone in white in the darkness but there was nothing like Michelangelo had described. He wasn't disappointed, he hadn't expected there to be anything.

He walked over to the door, spraying the floor and shining the light as he went. He could see where Mikey had fallen on his carapace. There was some light staining of his hands and feet where he had turned over and ran from the room. Leonardo hissed from behind him as he took more pictures. Donatello had felt the same reaction, Mikey's hands and feet were very clearly imprinted on the wooden flooring. The authorities, having found the girl's body would have probably followed this standard procedure at the crime scene and had seen them also, cataloguing this information and keeping it silent. The thought unsettled him. Even though they weren't part of society and it's laws, they considered themselves as an unofficial authority helping to keep the peace. Now, Mikey was probably the only suspect of a gruesome murder. If he was ever seen he would be probably shot on sight.

Michelangelo tensed as Leo and Don exchanged glances. It hadn't even crossed his mind that he'd left behind tangible evidence of their existence. Raphael noticed and snorted irritatedly. "Why are ya so upset? It's not like they don't know about us already. Bishop works for the government, they've been after us for years." He lifted his hand in the air in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "Think he would ever get a chance to open his mouth before getting killed or dissected anyway?"

Donatello cleared his throat and looked like he was going to say something but Leonardo put a hand on his shoulder that made him snap his mouth shut. "Talk to me, Don, what do you see?" He motioned with his head towards the glowing marks on the floor.

"Well, there don't seem to have been any markings made in blood or any other substance for that matter." He began putting everything away and took out some plastic baggies and cotton to collect samples from the blood stain and Mikey's prints along with some of the soot.

"Maybe it was something else they cleaned up?" Mikey asked, "They were really here." He was almost whining, then he grinned and added, "I remember it as if it were yesterday."

"It was yesterday, Mikey." Donatello seemed worried by his remark and spoke to him a little more slowly than he would normally.

Michelangelo huffed, annoyed at his reaction. "I know, Don. Sheesh, was just trying to lighten the mood here."

Donatello kept working as Leonardo tailed him watching what he was doing. "Well, they haven't cleaned anything up. There were no markings here, Mikey, of any sort since the fire. Look at the walls." He pointed without turning as he put away his samples, "If they cleaned something up they would have removed or smudged the soot. The same can be said for the floor. They would have had to clean around the blood and yet the edges don't seem to be disturbed or smudged."

He was watching Michelangelo intently now, gauging his reaction. He hadn't voiced his fears to Leonardo when asked about Michelangelo's condition and wasn't going to start to make assumptions now or start confronting Mikey in front of everyone. He had only told Leo that he was feeling better and it would be beneficial to take him to clear up some questions. Being the scientist and doctor of the family, Leonardo had acquiesced without further argument.

Michelangelo looked around the room again. "That... that's not," He walked up to the wall and examined it, then knelt by the stain on the floor. He was shaking his head but he couldn't refute what was right in front of him. "That... makes sense." He said slowly. He rose to his feet and lifted his gaze to Donatello. What now? He said with his sad blue eyes but then they darted to the corner before noticing Don's eye ridges creasing with worry and he set his gaze back on the ground.

"They don't believe you. You can't trust them." The voice now known as Deborah spoke to him from the corner of the room. Mikey was trying really hard not to look in her direction.

"Do you remember anything new now that you are here? Anything you forgot to tell me?" He really wanted to ask if he was experiencing any of the symptoms he had mentioned earlier but preferred to ask that in private. He suspected the answer would be yes, unless he was lying to him. Michelangelo had been twitchy and acting odd since they arrived, reacting to things that the others didn't. It had started to put Leonardo on edge, thinking that maybe Mikey was sensing someone in the building like he sometimes did himself with his uncanny ninja hearing. When asked about it Mikey had seemed to be startled at being addressed and had excused it as 'it just feels really creepy'. Leo and Raph had accepted his reasoning but Don knew better.

When they arrived at the room Mikey had recounted his bizarre tale, playing it out while Raph and Leo looked on, incredulous at first. Raphael had finally shrugged one shoulder and said, "Well, we've been through enough weird shit already, a talking dead chick is just one more to add to the list," though Don suspected he had said it more to calm Mikey who was beginning to look terrified. Raph had taken one look at the wall and hadn't taken his eyes off Mikey the rest of the time they were there.

He had left out the part where he kept hearing the girl back at the lair. Don didn't correct him, to Mikey's relief. Leonardo touched his bottom lip with a knuckle. "Don, is there anything that could have degraded over time and disappeared on it's own?" He didn't think they could discard the possibility that there was something else going on, even if the chances were minuscule. He wouldn't say 'dark forces' or 'magic' out loud or he wouldn't get Don's cooperation at all.

Donatello's eyes snapped to Leo's and he looked at him with disbelief. He noticed Michelangelo's shoulders rise slightly as he waited for an answer. After a moment in silence his attention went back to the wall. "Well, I don't know of anything that fits Mikey's description. I don't think they used any 'disappearing ink' if that's what you're asking. It would have left some kind of mark. I'll take samples if you like but I don't think we'll find anything." Donatello was retrieving more swabs and baggies as he spoke. "Show me where you saw the symbols, Mikey."

He took several samples, smearing the soot in different places on the wall and the floor. When they were done they packed up and headed out onto the roof getting ready to go back but Raphael stood his ground with his arms crossed looking in the opposite direction. "I'm gonna look around the neighbourhood some more, maybe someone saw something."

"The police probably already canvassed the area, I don't think you're going to find out anything they didn't. It's not like you can go knock on doors and ask questions." Leonardo's language was firm but he approached Raphael carefully trying to soften his tone of voice when habit wanted him to be authoritative. "I think we've done all we can here." He reached out and placed a cool hand on Raphael's dark green shoulder making him turn his head slightly but not looking at Leo. He was always a few degrees warmer than the rest of them. "Maybe I can get in contact with the Foot, see if they know anything... about... this." His voice tapered off at the end of the sentence when he felt the muscles under his fingers twitch. Immediately he realised he shouldn't have said anything. Too late.

Raphael's head turned sharply towards Leonardo and the fury in his amber eyes had Leonardo removing his hand quickly and taking a small step back. When he wouldn't say anything he continued speaking trying to keep his body language and tone of voice as disarming as possible. "Don't jump to conclusions, Raph. You don't know they had anything to do with this. This isn't the way they do things either, it's not their style. It was probably some... psycho killer." He waved a hand vaguely in the air, "This is more of a job for the police, anyway, we don't have the means to investigate this. Beating up some gang kids isn't going to get you anywhere and if you grab the wrong person it could mean trouble for us."

"For all we know, the cops have pinned this on Mikey!" He jabbed a finger in his direction raising his voice and flicked his eyes to the sea-green turtle. He noticed Don and Mikey had stepped closer to Leonardo, alert and ready. Leo already had his little lap-dogs back in line. He sneered, but backed off and lowered his tone slightly. His words came out more as a growl in his gravelly baritone. "I'm not gonna stand around when I could be doing something. Maybe they didn't question the homeless around here. Maybe they did but didn't get any answers. For once we could get something where the cops can't and if some criminal gets a little roughed up along the way..." He shrugged in a helpless manner with a half smirk that did not look friendly.

"Fine, have it your way." Leonardo really didn't want to argue about this. He recognized the way Raph avoided the Foot comment and was thankful for it but if he kept pressing he didn't think he'd be so lucky again. As far as he was concerned though, this matter was settled. Mikey was still pretty shaken up but it didn't seem like there was much to it. His crazy story was just that. Could probably chalk it up to the smoke inhalation and his wild imagination. They would keep their eyes open, maybe Don could hack into the police files to check out what they had on the case and Mikey. The last thing he wanted was to start showing themselves in this area asking questions about the girl if it was his brother they were after for the crime in the first place.

He sighed and turned back towards the others. There really wasn't anything he could say to deter him. All he could do at this point was try not to alienate him further and hope he wouldn't get into trouble. He had lost his authority over him long ago and only started to regain a bit of their old relationship. He wouldn't risk losing that as well. "All right, just try to stay out of trouble. Last thing we need is people talking about a giant turtle in the vicinity of the crime if they are already looking for one of us for it. Don't be out too... late." Raphael had jumped over the edge of the roof before he had even finished speaking. He huffed and shook his head. "Come on, let's head home." He motioned to the others and lead the way back.

Back at the lair, Michelangelo avoided his brothers and went straight to his room. Donatello had been giving him odd looks all the way back and he didn't want to feel his scrutiny any longer. Leonardo believed him, he wasn't going crazy. The symbols were there, he was certain and so was Leo and he was never wrong about anything. Well, most of the time he wasn't wrong. It must have been some kind of evil spell he was affected with when he touched the girl. That had to be it! Now her spirit was trapped or he was haunted or... possessed? No, not possessed. That was when they could control your body and he was completely in control. Okay, haunted then.

He let out a huge sigh of relief and dropped onto his bed. He felt twice as light after that. He could handle this but would have to be careful. Donatello wouldn't believe him and he'd think he was crazy. What's worse, he would probably try to convince the others he was crazy and Don was good at that with his techno-babble. He had a scientific answer for everything, so sneaky. Yes, he was going to have to avoid Donatello all together. Just have to act normal until he leaves it alone and goes back to his lab work.

He'd have to wait before he could go see Leonardo about it then. He needed a plan. Maybe if he figured out more of what the spell was or why the girl was killed he could find out what he needed to do to fix everything. Then he could go to Leonardo and tell him everything. He'll know what to do. He'll be on our side.

Michelangelo crawled into his bed feeling a hundred times better with his plan. The whispers didn't even bother him any more. Well, they bothered him a little. "Could you quiet down, guys, I'm trying to sleep here." He said out loud as he reached over to the bedside table.

In the movies the spirits that couldn't move on usually couldn't leave because they have 'unfinished business' or something. Like in that Sixth Sense thing with Bruce Willis. Haa, totally knew he was dead all along. Eat that Shyamalan, too smart for you! Well, she was murdered, right? That would be a good place to start. "Goodnight, Deb!" He switched off the light and stretched out under the covers, plastron down.

"Goodnight, Michelangelo."

Raphael was feeling very frustrated. He had been running around the blocks near the fire site looking for answers and so far he had found nothing. Nada. Zilch. At least he burned off some energy. Also, he was away from Leonardo, which was usually a plus. He paused on the ledge of a building looking down into the alley. He couldn't believe the nerve of him giving him his 'permission' to stay as long as he kept out of trouble. He had left then, grinding his teeth to avoid saying something that he would regret later.

He sighed but it came out more as a huff through his nose, nostrils flaring. He didn't want to feel this way. Didn't want to have the urge to escape his family to find peace. The thought of going home even now was the last thing on his mind. He felt oppressed, trapped, like a chained dog in a tiny yard. The irritation of having everyone tip toe around him was getting hard to keep under control. He missed the easy relationship he used to have with them. They always fought but they never avoided confrontation as they did now. They avoided it so much that they were avoiding each other in the process.

His nose caught the scent of something burning. He peered over the ledge and leaned out as far as he could to look all the way down the darkened alley, his red mask tails billowing in the wind and slapping against the side of his head. He pushed them back over his shoulder. There were some homeless people around a barrel and he decided to check it out. The people near this area were mostly acquaintances of the Professor so he didn't mind showing himself. There were a couple who he hadn't seen before but he figured they would have been told the stories anyway and he was in too much of a rush to go find a disguise.

"The dead girl in the fire?" The blonde man looked at his companion. "We only know that they found her in that fire an' they say she was all cut up! We haven't heard anything else though, have we?"

"Nope." His eloquent companion in the baseball cap and ripped shirt answered.

"The new guy's been saying some stuff about it but between you an' me?" He leaned in towards the turtle and Raphael looked behind him at the old man he was mentioning before leaning in as well. "The guy's lost his marbles. Don't understand half what he says, ain't that right?" He gestured with his chin at his friend again.

"Yup."

"Thanks guys, let me know if you hear anything else. The Professor'll know how to get in contact." He waved them off and approached the old man hunched over in a corner amongst some cardboard boxes. "Hey, uh, I was just wondering if ya knew about–"

"You!" The old man pointed at Raphael and leaned against the wall, pushing himself to stand. "You are tainted! Get away! Demon! Monster!"

The man started raising his voice and Raphael tried to shush him, putting his hands out with his palms down, "Look, I'm no demon. I'm not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna know if you've heard about the girl they found in the fire."

"It was demons, I tell you! Dark arts to bring forth the spawn of Satan! The end of the world is upon us! We must repent or fall into the depths of Hell! Begone, demon! You hold no power here!" The man poked around inside the collar of his shirt and pulled out what looked like a tiny silver cross on a chain around his neck.

Raphael backed away. The man was making too much noise and not much sense. He doubted he would get anything from him. Guy should be in a mental home, not here. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving."

"The guardian will find you! He'll purify you, smite your corruption into the oblivion whence you came!" He called after Raphael.

He shook his head and ignored the crazy old coot as he walked out near the entrance to the alley and jumped up to a fire escape vaulting off the wall to get more altitude. His hand caught the rung above the extendible ladder and his powerful muscles coiled and extended to swing himself over to the first floor. He wasn't ready to go home yet, so he might as well broaden the area he was searching. It was going to be a long night.

As he leapt off the roof he didn't notice a small figure walking in the direction of the burnt building and slipping inside.

Amaia Dawson looked around in the darkened hallway before pulling out a small penlight and making her way down the corridor. She didn't like this place. As she advanced, the hairs on her arms were standing up and she felt what could only be described as 'completely creeped out'. "This better be worth it." She muttered under her breath as she sped up her pace. The sooner she was done the sooner she could leave. The only reason she was here to begin with was that stupid list. She raked her fingers through her long dark hair and then awkwardly tried to button up her coat with one hand. October nights were a lot chillier in New York than she had imagined. She pulled down on the hem of the coat to try cover up a bit more of her exposed legs. Should have worn trousers for once, she berated herself.

She had arrived in the country a couple days ago determined to find answers and so far she didn't really have a clue of where to even begin her search. Her father had been missing for three months now and the police here hadn't been able to come up with anything. Maybe there was nothing to find? She snuffed the thought out before it could take shape and feed her fears.

"This place is built like a maze." She talked to herself again to dispel the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She made her way towards the floor and side of the building where the most fire damage could be seen from outside. If there was anything to find it would probably be there.

The first thing she had done upon arriving in the city where her father went missing was try to get in contact with the people who had hired him. He had arrived in the country nearly six months ago but over the phone they wouldn't tell her anything about what he was doing here she had insisted she knew of his line of work but only managed to get the address and an appointment to meet the woman his dad was working with on this... job, or whatever you could call it. She'd talk to her in a few days but in the meantime she couldn't just sit back and wait.

She'd searched the small one-bedroom apartment her dad was occupying. Thankfully he had the rent paid automatically through the bank so it was still available for her to use. She couldn't afford anything on her monthly allowance and the small amount of money she had managed to put together working during the summer was used to buy her plane tickets. The apartment was also exactly as her father had left it, dirty dishes in the sink and all. After a thorough search (and tidying up) she had found a small notebook with some writing she couldn't really make sense of and a list of about 50 addresses throughout the city. She didn't really know what to make of it until the next day the third entry on the list made an appearance on television and it would have gone by her unnoticed if not for the terrible crime depicted by the reporter.

She had considered going to the police but her gut, and the previous day's visit when she was blown off, told her that they wouldn't be much help. She was acting on suppositions, anyway. Might as well check it out on her own. She shook her head as she remembered how the officers had looked at her when she described the work her father did and what she suspected he was doing here in New York. It didn't help that her father would go on random jobs around the globe for many months at a time. They had told her at the precinct that he would probably just show up eventually and they weren't willing to spend the resources on a missing persons case if there was no evidence that he was abducted, attacked, threatened or being held against his will.

Once she made her mind up she collected a few things she knew her father would take on the job, a couple worn books that were bookmarked and left open by him on the coffee table and his most recent journal she could find (though the last one was missing). She packed everything in her father's worn leather messenger bag and headed out.

She arrived at the room where the fire had originated and stepped inside carefully, noticing the dark stain immediately and the dreadful smell. She shivered as she looked around. There was nothing there, and yet... Her whole skin was tingling from head to foot. Her instincts were telling her to get out of there.

There had to be something here. She pulled out one of the books and opened it to the bookmarked pages, skimming through it to see if there was any reference to anything she could see here. It didn't seem like there was anything other than constellations and moon phases. She pulled out the other book. This one was one of those really old manuals that had crumbly yellow pages. She winced as one of the stitches on the page she was turning ripped. She placed the messenger bag flat on the floor and the book gently on top, turning the pages with both hands carefully and then shining the penlight on it.

"Deb?"

She froze at the sound of the male voice behind her, in the hallway, and turned her head. She didn't see anyone there but flashed the penlight in that direction anyway. Nothing. She contemplated what to do for a moment. Maybe she should just stay quiet and hope whoever it was would leave. She listened intently and heard the soft pat of bare feet on the floor coming closer down the hallway. This was the only door at the end, there would be no such luck. "Hello? Is there anyone there?" she called out. The sound of steps was right there but she still couldn't see anyone. Maybe it was someone on the floor above her? That didn't seem right, it sounded as if it was right in front of her.

She stood up slowly and stared at the entrance of the room expecting something to jump out. The silence was making her heart beat pound in her ears, her breathing seemed unnaturally loud and she held her breath for a moment trying to listen. The sound had stopped a second ago.

"You're not Deb." The voice sounded right beside her ear and she yelped dropping the penlight and jumping away from the source.

She quickly rushed to where she had dropped the penlight, scrabbling for it until she picked it up with trembling hands and flashed it all across the room. It was still empty. It suddenly dawned on her that she was in no way prepared to handle such a thing. How could you have thought otherwise, father only ever taught you the basics, she told herself as she tried to control her shaky breathing. She was turning slowly in a circle looking into every corner, wall, ceiling and floorboard. Maybe there's a hidden speaker somewhere? "W-who are you?"

"Uhm, I'm Michelangelo, but everyone calls me Mikey."


	7. Contrition

Previously.

She was turning slowly in a circle looking into every corner, wall, ceiling and floorboard. Maybe there's a hidden speaker somewhere? "W-who are you?"

"Uhm, I'm Michelangelo, but everyone calls me Mikey."

What. On. Earth. Amaia's eyes were watering as she tried to look intently into the darkened room in the direction of the voice. "Are you a spirit?" she said out loud and immediately regretted it. Her father wouldn't have done that, he would have done something else. He would have conjured up some spell or pulled out some relic.

"Uh, no, are you?" the disembodied voice asked.

"She can't see us." A third voice spoke and Amaia turned sharply towards it but wasn't surprised when she saw nothing. "For what it's worth, I think I am a spirit." the feminine and slightly accented voice added.

"Why are you talking to her? She can't hear you."

"Yes I can."

"Yes she can." they both said at once.

"Woooah. Awesome. Uh, Miss? What are you doing here? It's kind of late to be wandering around in abandoned buildings... reading."

The male voice sounded as if it were approaching to have a conversation. Yes, I'll just have a little chat with a disembodied voice and what appears to be a ghost. Maybe I can offer them some tea and biscuits. Her mind reeled and she covered her mouth to smother the sharp laughter that erupted. Calm down. Calm down.

"Yeah, that happened to me too. My brothers thought I was going cray-cray." the male voice explained and somehow she got the feeling that he was making circular movements with his finger pointed to his head to exemplify 'crazy'.

She cleared her voice and took a deep breath. "I was just, uhm, surprised. You surprised me, is all. I didn't expect there to be any spirits here." She coughed again to try keep her voice from shaking. They didn't seem evil, or violent. Not seeing them was the only thing that was unsettling her. Yes, that was it. That's all there was to it. Just had to think of it as talking on the phone with someone.

She looked down at her forearms covered by her thick coat. Spirits generally didn't like being seen or worst of all, revealed. Her father had taught her that at a young age. He told her that when she was very little he realised right away that she could see things but it was a double-edged blade. Once you do see them, you could be seen by them as well and not all other-worldly creatures were peaceful. Some could be very dangerous if you caught their attention.

'The gift of the seer' he had called it. He would tell her stories about powerful champions, sacred men and women who had done great things. She hadn't understood then why, if it was considered a gift, did he have to take it away with seals and rituals. "I am protecting you. You are too young to understand." he had claimed as he put the tattoo needle to her skin and ordered her not to move. She had cried, then, howled in pain but kept as still as she could. Her father's word was absolute and to be obeyed without question.

Eventually she understood many things like why his father travelled without her. When she was old enough to read the whole story of those characters he had told her about she realised they never ended well. He was trying to keep her from that world.

"There are others to fight those battles. I don't need you there. You are too weak anyway, you'd get in the way." He had told her when she wanted to be taken with him. It was his way of showing affection. He was a hard man, toughened by the many horrors of this world and the other. She spent most of her days alone or in the care of the diocese which was also in charge of her education.

She had no practical experience with her father's line of work. He wouldn't allow it. He would probably be furious if he found out that she were even here. She had spent a long time reading, though. Everything she could get her hands on. She learned certain chapters in the 'Rituale Romanum' before she learned algebra. She had even managed to borrow some of the manuals from the hidden archive at the temple. Once she found out where her father hid the key to the locked cabinet where he kept his journals and reference texts she had free reign on them as long as she did so when he wasn't home and put everything back exactly as she found it.

It wasn't the same as being trained by an actual exorcist. A lot of the text she found was in languages she didn't know and a lot of the stuff she could read was impossible to understand without context, or a teacher. Like now, for example, she had never read what was the appropriate course of action when one found themselves chatting with a couple of friendly voices just passing by a crime scene in the middle of the night. She made up her mind, put down the penlight on her messenger bag and started undoing the buttons of her coat.

"Sooo, who are you, then? And what bring you here?" The male voice, er, Mikey asked.

She pulled open her coat and shrugged out of it, folding it up and laying it on the bag in silence, placing the penlight on top. "Nice dress, the flowers really suit you. Not so sure about the cardigan, though. There's something about knitted cardigans that just screams 'boring librarian', ya know? Not, not that you are boring, I mean. It looks nice, really." The voice coughed and cleared his throat.

Michelangelo closed his mouth at that. If it wasn't for the odd look he provoked in the young woman he would have thought she couldn't hear him any more. Deb wasn't helping either. She was just in the corner over there, he was going to say 'sitting' but you can't really sit if you were just a head, could you?

"My name is Amaia and I'm looking for my father. He had this address written down and I want to know why." She paused with a hand on her sleeve.

"Well, I can't help you with that. The only people I know who were here was Deb over in the corner and me and my bros." He paused for a moment. "Oh, and I guess whoever killed and chopped up Deb. What's your last name, Maya? Did your father do this?"

He seemed less friendly now and she hesitated for a moment. These spirits, or whatever they were could already see her so a little revelation spell shouldn't hurt, right? She pulled up the sleeve on one arm to the elbow and shifted to do the same on the other. "No, my father would never do such a thing. If he was here it was probably for another reason. Maybe he was trying to stop what happened? I don't even know if he was actually here or only knew that something awful was going to take place. He might have had a vision or something and wrote it down." She was rambling but it was helping her to organize her thoughts.

"Cool tats!" He interrupted her. "I was NOT expecting that. You don't look like the kind of person who even likes tattoos, no offence. So, your dad has visions, huh? He some kind of psychic?"

"Uh, kind of, not really, he is an exorcist. These tattoos are two halves of a revelation spell." She held out her bared arms palms up to show the half circle and symbols etched in black on the soft underside of her forearms.

Mikey looked at it closely and could see they fit together like a puzzle to form a complete circle if put side by side. She held her arms parallel to each other and brought them closer together. Hands held in fists they trembled with effort as if something was pulling them apart, like trying to press two repelling magnets together. The moment they touched he felt a force press him to the floor, as if you were on an elevator that suddenly sped up vertically. It didn't topple him over but it was not a pleasant sensation. A moment later it had passed and he looked around.

Amaia also looked around but she still couldn't see them, she frowned. She had never attempted this before so she wasn't sure what to expect. It was meant to reveal things that were hidden but maybe it didn't work on spirits so much as something that was actively being hidden by another spell? She didn't know the specifics, she would have to look that up.

She suddenly gasped and Michelangelo turned to see what she was looking at. On the floor in an undulating wave she could see writing that wasn't there before. When the ripple crashed against the baseboards it started climbing, revealing the symbols on the walls. "Woah, that's where they went. My brothers are so not gonna believe me."

Stepping up to the wall she examined the writing, she pulled out her phone and started snapping photos. "Hey, do you think you could maybe, I dunno send those to me?"

She kept taking pictures without bothering to look away from what she was doing. She was getting used to the friendly if somewhat obnoxious voice that couldn't help but comment on everything she did. "What would a ghost want with digital photos?"

"I'm not a ghost! Deb is the only ghost. I'm just... dreaming, I think."

She paused at this before moving on to the floor. "You mean, astral projection? You can do that? I thought only very powerful priests could do that sort of thing successfully."

"Uh, yes, maybe, I'm not sure. Look I..." the male voice, Mikey, his name is Mikey, stopped and she got the impression he was rubbing his face even if he didn't really have one, "I'm getting so tired of telling this story."

"I've got time." She finished taking pictures and moved to put on her coat, smoothing down the sleeves of her cardigan and rubbing her hands together to get some warmth back.

Michelangelo told his story for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past two days. He was very careful to tell every detail with as much precision as he remembered. It was the first time he was certain he was being believed and now he knew he definitely wasn't crazy. This girl might be the answer to his problems and he would risk trusting her if she could fix him... to an extent.

"So, now I can't stop hearing whispers all the time. It's super annoying, like having your ear against a bee hive. Deborah follows me around everywhere and so my brothers think I am going crazy and my skin feels like it's burning up sometimes."

"I don't follow you. It's you who doesn't leave and I can't get out of this place." Deborah finally spoke up.

"Huh? What are you saying?" Mikey started but was interrupted.

"Let me get this straight. I'm not sure if I've understood correctly. So you set off some kind of ritual they had set up here," she waved in the vague direction of the centre of the room, "and since then you've been hearing and feeling these things non stop? Deborah isn't part of the whispers, do you know what the whispers say? Are they interfering somehow?"

"I wouldn't say non stop. I think at times they quiet down but I can't understand the whispers and they're only annoying."

"This might not be astral projection then." She paced the room as she went through possibilities she had only read about. "I think both of your spirits were trapped here somehow but what would be the point of that? That circle is wrong as well. It's incomplete and a couple symbols don't even fit with the others."

"Wait, I'm not trapped here, I can move around freely. I only dream of this place."

"Your spirit does not work in space the same way your body does. It's... complicated. Your spirit is in your body and here at the same time though I won't know for sure until we meet. You are still in the city, right? Maybe we could talk in person, tomorrow for coffee or something?"

"Woah, woah, Amy, you are nice and all, really cute, but I can't just go on a date with you. I mean, we've just met, hehe. I'm not that kind of tur- guy. I'm not that kind of guy." He laughed weakly and swallowed audibly.

She frowned. "It's Amaia, not Maya and not Amy." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Look, I won't tell anyone about your condition. You can trust me. You're the first real clue to something that could lead me to my father. Please."

Mikey was silent for a moment, considering his options. Leo would freak out if he asked him to meet up in person with some girl he saw in a dream. Not to mention Donnie would put him in a straitjacket. "I can't, Amaia. I really can't. It's not that I don't trust you. I mean, it totally is that, but it's not all."

"I should go, then." She picked up her things and walked through the door.

"Wait! Amaia, don't leave me here! Please!"

She paused just outside in the hall turning so he could see her profile. "Then wake up. I'll try to find out more on my own. If I do, I'll come back to get you."

"O-Ok. Thanks, Amaia. It's been nice talking to you." Her pink lips curled up into a soft smile and grey eyes flashed in his direction but they looked right through him to the end of the room. He resisted the urge to turn his head and look behind him. "Hey, maybe if I get out of this mess I'll take you up on that date."

Her eyes went wide and the pale skin of her cheeks blushed bright red. She was going to say something but thought better of it and shook her head chuckling to herself. "For a spirit trapped in a room with a ghost you are awfully flirty." She grinned, putting her hands on her hips as if to scold him. "See you soon, Mikey."

He laughed a bit abashedly and then watched her go before turning to Deb. "Why can't you be nicer to me like she is? This whole being an invisible spirit thing isn't so bad. I totally got a date and she didn't scream or run from me which is, you know, always a good sign. What do you think? Is she into me?"

"I don't like her."

"Course you don't." He stretched though he wasn't sure why. Spirits don't get muscle cramps or soreness from standing around. He felt himself start to fade. "Welp, guess we'll talk later."

Leonardo lay awake in his room, on his bed. He had attempted meditation and having failed to focus tried to get some rest. That didn't seem to be working either. When they got back to the lair Michelangelo had fled from them and gone to bed. Donatello had hidden himself in his lab to work on the samples and he had gone to practice some katas while he waited for results or Raphael to return home.

He was feeling restless. Something didn't feel right and when he decided he'd meditate to figure out what it was, Donatello had wanted to speak with him. Instead of going to the lab he lead Leonardo outside the lair. This must be important to require this level of privacy. He had then proceeded to explain what he thought was wrong with Michelangelo.

Leonardo was stunned into silence. After a while where Donatello looked at him expectantly he answered, "Are you sure, Don? Schizophrenia? Isn't it something else? He looked fine when we went out."

"Don't give me that, Leo. You saw him just as I did. He was hearing voices again, seeing things where there was nothing."

"Maybe they drugged him? Some hallucinogen? This is a very serious diagnosis, Don. You can't just... It can't be schizophrenia. It has to be something else."

Hazel eyes turned to his brother to give him a stern glare. "You think I haven't done my research? That I haven't gone through all the possibilities? His blood work came out clean, there were no needle marks on him. He could have taken something orally but it would have shown up in the analysis and it wouldn't have lasted this long. Even if they had been drug induced hallucinations that had somehow degraded in his system to not show up in tests done a couple hours later, they aren't there now and he's still suffering from symptoms. They could have served as a catalyst. The most likely scenario, though, is that this was an underlying condition he's always had and his experience was a catalyst for a full blown psychotic break."

Leonardo leaned back against the wall and covered his mouth with a shaky hand. He listened intently but he was shaking his head at Donatello's words. "He's never had any previous symptoms. How can you be so sure?"

"How can you be so sure he hasn't? When was the last time before now that you spent time with him? I don't mean roping him into doing katas. When did you last have a conversation with your brother that didn't include 'what's for dinner' or current events on the tv?"

Leonardo's lips pressed together into a thin line so that his mouth was almost invisible and he looked away guiltily, closing his eyes. It couldn't be something so serious. It was too soon to sentence him that way, he had only been acting up the last couple days. Had he, though? He hadn't even spoken to him much about anything that mattered the weeks leading up to this. If he had schizophrenia what could they do? Medicate him? Where would they get them? Even if they would, could he even continue to train with them and be part of the team? Probably not. If the crime scene had been a catalyst for a crisis, he would have to avoid anything similar. Would they have to start keeping the weapons out of his reach? A lock on the bedrooms and the entrance to the lair? Was there a chance that he would hurt himself or others?

No. He refused to believe it until every possible avenue had been exhausted. "There's one possibility you haven't considered." When Donatello looked up he continued, "What if all he said is true?"

Donatello laughed derisively, "You mean that he was put under a spell and can now hear ghosts? Seriously, that's your conclusion? Well, good thing I have you here, wouldn't know what I'd do without your valuable input." His tone of voice had become downright nasty near the end.

"Is it that far-fetched considering all we've been through?"

"Yes! It is! It's not only hearing the ghosts, Leo, he's getting strange ideas in his head, he's not acting normal. If it was just you hearing a voice you'd go to your brothers and talk about it, maybe organize a seance or a meditative session with Master Splinter. He's got classic symptoms of paranoia, he thinks everyone is out to get him, including every shadow. He's becoming secretive and reclusive, with moments of severe agitation. Even our own voices are getting twisted in his head and coming out as something different! This isn't ghosts or magic, it's psychiatry and pharmacology."

Leonardo crossed his arms and clenched his teeth as he considered his next words carefully, the muscles in his temple jumping at the strain in his jaw. He fixed Donatello with his steely obsidian gaze. "Until I am certain, you will take this no further." When Donatello made to argue he lifted his hand commanding silence and in his most authoritative voice ordered. "We will keep him home in the meantime and a watchful eye on him at all times. I am only asking for a few days, Donatello, before condemning our brother to this diagnosis."

"He's suffering, Leo. He's frightened and alone. Right now he's aware of what's happening to him but soon he won't be to discern between what's real and what isn't." He had deflated at his brothers words and now only pleaded with him, defeated. He knew he had lost this argument and would heed his decision even if he thought he was making a mistake. He wouldn't be able to take the necessary steps without him and Master Splinter on his side and antagonizing him now was the best recipe to delay what needed to be done even further. "He'll get worse every day until we do something about it. He needs our help."

"If he does get worse then I'll reconsider. Until then, I require patience and discretion." With that the conversation was over and Leonardo headed back into the lair and over to his room which is where he found himself at the moment. He had sounded so sure of his decision in front of Don but now, he was full of doubt. Maybe it was only wishful thinking. Was it so far fetched to believe Mikey and was he only doing it because he couldn't handle the alternative? For now, he could only wait and hope it had been the right thing to do.

Donatello paced his lab. His anger was back full force. What was the point of having him here, of looking to his expertise if his brothers didn't heed his advice? He needed to talk to someone but he had promised his brother he wouldn't go to the others about this. He picked up his shell cell and his fingers automatically dialled April's number. He hesitated and put his phone down again. It was late, she was probably sleeping and he would be waking Casey up as well, her husband. April's husband, Casey. It still sounded strange to him.

He... He missed her. He missed her so much. Things had been a bit awkward between them and it had been some time since they had talked. They used to talk all the time. He'd bounce his ideas off her or just chat about anything. She was the only one who could keep up with him, he didn't have to simplify his language for her.

It was all his fault though, for the awkwardness at least. He sat down hunched over a stack of books and played with the corner of the cover with an olive finger. She had given him this book. He had overstepped his boundaries and now she was avoiding him. He couldn't blame her, really. He didn't know how to move around it any more than she did. And here is where it had brought them.

Did she miss him as much as he did? Probably not. He was well aware that he harboured more than friendly feelings toward the red-head. He'd always had feelings for her. It was platonic, little more than admiration and a smidgen of a teenage crush at first. He'd ignored it expected it to go away on it's own but she was present in everything he did. He'd call or video chat to talk excitedly about some experiment or a new scientific breakthrough in the news. She'd sometimes come over and head straight for him and they would talk until they had exhausted the subject and then they'd talk about anything and everything else until it was the early hours in the morning. He'd accompany her home and they'd end up talking at her window until he received an angry phone call from Leo right before sunrise.

She'd laugh at something he said and cover her mouth with the back of her curled fingers because she was insecure about showing her smile. She would press herself against his side with a hand on the back lip of his carapace over his shoulder when she leaned close to read the code on his monitor checking for an error he couldn't see. She was always so warm. She had a way of talking quietly to him when she didn't want the others to hear and she didn't do it with any of his brothers, so close to his cheek that he could feel her breath on his skin. She touched him without thought, careless brushes of her fingers against his arm or soft nudges against his shoulder.

Was it creepy that he had basked in all this attention in silence? He had cherished every moment when she had only thought of it as regular friendly interaction. I had meant so much to him even though he knew that he couldn't possibly mean anything more to her than a good friend.

He put his elbow down on the desk and held his chin up with his palm, frowning. He had blown it. It had started at her wedding ceremony or slightly before then, he wasn't sure. He had started clinging to her. He couldn't help himself, he felt as if he were losing her. In the end he did, heh. It wasn't that he thought they could be together, which he didn't. It's that he thought that if he were to lose her to someone it should be to someone amazing.

Not that he was saying that Casey wasn't good enough for her. But he wasn't. He knew Casey could not possibly make her happy. He couldn't fill her life the way she needed. Casey was an awesome guy, a loyal friend and he loved him like family, but... he was little more than a caveman compared to her. What did they even talk about? The subjects Casey was interested in revolved around sports and bashing Purple Dragon's heads aaaand, no that's it.

Before the wedding when they moved in together and some time after until he messed everything up completely, April would talk to him every day, sometimes for hours. If she had needed him so much, it meant that Casey was just not capable of holding her interest. During the wedding he had felt like she was slipping away between his fingers. She was beautiful in her wedding dress and he had to admit part of that radiance was due to the brilliant smile planted on her face. He had decided to let everything go then. Who was he to think who was a better match if she was happy?

She had pulled him out of his chair for a dance, to his utter embarrassment, and his brother's mirth. He had read some online guides about the waltz and other common ballroom dancing but it was one thing to prance around alone following the steps on a diagram and counting out loud in the lab and another to move with the music, a crowd watching his every misstep and the woman who held his heart in his arms.

His heart beat so fast he thought he was going to faint and his face felt so warm he was sure his cheeks had turned an unflattering shade of purple. At least it was his colour. After a few faltering steps she had turned her face in towards his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his and using that soft, quiet voice that was only for him had whispered how glad she was she could finally get him to herself.

They had danced and spoken quietly for most of the night, only broken by the ringing of her laughter and eventually Casey Jones had come to collect her to retire to their room. "The Honeymoon So-wee-tey" he had called it.

"The 'e' is silent, ya wack-bag, even I know that." Raph had answered him, grinning with a beer in his hand he was legally not old enough to drink. "Yeah, if the cops show up and ask me for my license I'm gonna be in trouble." He had answered and they had left him alone after that.

Casey had been drinking, of course, it was his wedding after all, why was he so surprised? But when he had staggered over and made to pull April into a kiss Don had instinctively tucked her into his side out of his reach. He had nearly fallen over and Raph had to step forward to keep him steady.

"Hey, Don! Shhhtop hogging her ta yerssself! We needs to go get the party started in the bedroom, if ya know what I mean." He made to wink and nudge Raph but completely missed his side and nearly keeled over.

"Yeah, yeah, Romeo. You are real romantic, pal. I'm surprised it took ya this long to get hooked. Must have been holding off the girls with a hockey stick." Raph's humour distracted his friend for a moment who burst out laughing but Don didn't miss the odd 'what are you doing?' look Raph sent his way.

Donatello might have been holding April a little tighter than he should have and April turned to him and gave him a confused look at his actions as well. He immediately let go, realising what he had been doing. "Come on you big lug, lets get you to bed." She said after a heartbeat. She held him by one arm while Raph dragged him forward by the other toward the farmhouse.

He hadn't realised how closely he had been holding her most of the night until he felt the cold all along the front of his plastron, his arms and his shoulder and he was covered in her scent. He looked around, noticing most of the guests had already headed home. They must have been dancing alone. He hadn't noticed, his world had been reduced to only her and her every word, blocking out everything and everyone else.

He looked up to the farmhouse and noticed the light on in the main bedroom. Two silhouettes leaning close to each other outlined against the light coming through the window. He couldn't go home to sleep, to hear them together. Drunk-Casey was a very loud Casey. He turned and headed towards the woods. He'd take a long walk under the full moon. Maybe it would clear his head, and his suddenly heavy spirits.

"You know you're not losing her." Mikey spoke from behind him. "Nothing has changed."

Donatello paused mid step. "I know." His voice came out more forced than he expected and he said nothing else.

Michelangelo looked at him with sad blue eyes and gave him a one armed hug over his shoulders. "Come on, lets get out of these awful human clothes. How do people even move in these?" His head tilted to the side slightly in a way Don recognized as 'I just got a good idea that really isn't very good at all' that usually ended up in Raph being pranked. "Race you to the lake!" He called out kicking away his shoes and hopping on one leg as he pulled off his trousers letting them fall wherever. "Last one there hatched from a rotten egg!"

Donatello smiled even though it didn't reach his eyes and Leonardo dashed by him giving him a face-full of tuxedo jacket as he passed. "So slow! What are you, a turtle?" He turned around to run backwards to taunt him some more when an already naked Raphael vaulted over him in a complicated somersault, bapped him on the head and miscalculated his landing nearly falling on his face, arms flailing widely. He saved it by tucking into a roll last second but Leonardo saw and he guffawed. "Children, you shouldn't drink and ninja!" He ducked Raphael's swing and ran towards where Mikey had disappeared.

Don laughed then, unrestrained. He toed off his shoes and undid his trousers and shirt. He looked around before dropping his clothes on the pile on the floor to press the material of his jacket to his snout briefly. He'd always have the memory of tonight, no one could take that from him. He let the clothing slip from his fingers and he jogged to catch up with his boisterous brothers.


	8. Penitence

Previously.

Don laughed then, unrestrained. He toed off his shoes and undid his trousers and shirt. He looked around before dropping his clothes on the pile on the floor to press the material of his jacket to his snout briefly. He'd always have the memory of tonight, no one could take that from him. He let the clothing slip from his fingers and he jogged to catch up with his boisterous brothers.

Raphael crouched on top of a water tower like some misplaced gargoyle, gazing over the streets he had been running through the past hour. There was nothing going on. Tonight was a total bust. He stood up and stretched, cracking his neck as he turned his head this way and that. He dropped off the side of the tower and walked over to the ledge rolling his shoulders and shaking out his arms.

He had positioned himself near a group of kids sitting on and around a bench in a concrete park. They had been tagging a part of the low brick wall that enclosed the space on one side but he had decided to leave them be. They were young, couldn't be older than fourteen or fifteen, maybe a couple of them were sixteen or seventeen. He had perched close by, directly above them so he could hear what they were saying as the words drifted up to him. He doubted these punks new anything about a murder. They hadn't spoken about anything even remotely related. The older two had been talking about the PD's but had been vague about it, only that they knew someone who knew someone. If they were really members he'd tail them when they split up, but he didn't want to frighten the others.

He had spotted a small figure walking towards the park, short, slender build, wearing an oversized brown, men's coat and a heavy leather messenger bag. "Go another way." He muttered under his breath. The kids didn't seem too bad but there were half a dozen and he knew something would happen if the girl walked by. Maybe they'd just send a few cat calls her way and leave her be but he didn't want to risk it.

He moved over to the fire escape, ready to jump down if necessary. Maybe it was best if he did have to intervene and give these kids an early scare before they got themselves into more serious trouble. She approached the park and stopped as she spotted or heard the group of kids, turned around and headed back down the street she had come from. "Smart girl." He said to himself.

"Hey!" One of the older kids called out and Raph cursed under his breath. They had seen her. "Where you goin' sweatheart? You not 'fraid of us are ya?"

The girl didn't wait to see what happened and broke into a full run. "Hey! Come back here I'm not done talkin' to you!" The older kid got up and charged towards her, pulling the other up with him. "C'mon!" The others followed him if a little reluctant.

She ran pumping her legs as fast as she could. She was a good runner, back home she had trained a lot in school in track and field. She was too small and light to be any good at fighting or most sports but it was a good skill to have to be able to run away from things. Even though back in Spain, she was considered average height for a girl, most Americans she encountered towered over her and her shorter legs wouldn't outrun the older kids' long strides for long.

Maybe they're all smokers and I can outlast them. I have a bit of a lead on them, if I keep it up maybe they'll get tired and leave me alone. She winced at the pull of the messenger bag as it swung and struck her hip with her every step. It was digging into her shoulder and weighing her down. She considered dropping it briefly but decided against it. She couldn't get rid of her father's things so easily or the items that could lead to his whereabouts.

Her ballerina flats slapped against the pavement and she winced as she nearly slipped on a manhole cover. Should have worn trousers AND running shoes. "Girl! Turn right!" She heard a deep voice from above her call out but she ignored it and ran in the direction of her father's apartment. She didn't know her way around and the last thing she needed was to get lost. She looked back over her shoulder as she turned a corner and noticed that half of them had fallen behind or given up. She was practically home, the entrance to the building's garage was just up ahea-

She turned her head back just as her foot caught some wooden boards someone had placed against the wall by the dumpster and had toppled over. She tripped forward and when her right foot came down to stop her fall it twisted between two boards and she fell hard, forward and to the side, scraping her legs and hands against the concrete and hitting the edge of the dumpster with the side of her head.

Raphael saw her go down when she turned into an alley across the street from him and he cursed again. Even if she hadn't fallen, that alley had no way out. She should have turned right when he said, it lead to a main road where there were more people. They wouldn't have followed her. He winced when he heard her yelp and then go still, a bad fall. Must've hit her head.

He reached the bottom of the fire escape as four of the kids reached the alley. She had put up a good chase, he'd give her that. The girl had stamina but she was no match even for a fourteen year old punk kid with spaghetti arms. Girl had to measure around five foot, must be what, thirteen? She reminded him of when they had first met Angel.

"I'll teach you some respect, girl." The older boy said.

One of the younger kids did not look happy to be there, "Dude, she's out. Let's get out of here. What if she's dead?"

"She ain't dead. Bitch is just pretendin'." He reached out to grab her by the coat and turn her over but as his fingers brushed the brown material something whistled through the air and snapped his arm back, pinning it to the wall beside him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Ain't got anything better to do that scare little girls? I'll show ya what it feels to be scared." He had lowered his voice into a menacing grown and it seemed almost feral.

One of the kids immediately bolted out of there. "Smart kid. I'd take his example."

The oldest managed to pull himself free of the shuriken pinning his sleeve. He fished a switch-blade from his back pocket and charged towards Raphael but stopped short when the turtle stepped out of the shadows to meet him. "What? What are you?"

Raphael gave the kid a feral grin, "Right now? The one who's going to kick your ass to next week." He pulled out his sai and twirled them between his fingers before taking a defensive stance. He really didn't think he needed them but he was going to have a little fun.

He walked forward when they didn't do anything other than gawk at him and stood in front of the girl. With her coat and in the position she had fallen he couldn't tell if she was even breathing. He frowned, he might have to get her to a hospital after this. He tilted his head slightly to listen for any noise from her without taking his eyes off the boys. Man, they were young. He shook his head. "Ya should be worrying about school and girlfriends, not assaulting people on the street. The hell is the matter with ya?"

"I'll show you, you freak!"

Raphael cracked his neck. The f-word really ticked him off. "I guess you're first then." Tired of waiting around he charged the kid with the knife and ducked to the side when he slashed at him. He quickly brought the grip of his sai down on the back of his head and the kid's eyes rolled up into his skull as he crumpled like a doll to the ground. The others gaped but didn't move.

"I'm so out of your league we ain't even playin' the same sport. I think it's time to go home to your parents." Knocking out the loud mouth had been a lot less satisfying than he imagined and he wasn't up to pummelling children. He heard a groan behind him and the girl moving. He shifted his left foot back slightly so he could keep his sights on her out of the corner of his eye. She was small but he wasn't about to let her take him unawares. He knew he was currently blocking her only way out and when she got a good look at him...

She must have been out for a few seconds or at least dazed. Her vision swam briefly before coming into focus. The noise of a scuffle had sharpened her dulled senses and she tried to sit up. There was a throbbing ache near the back of her head and her right ankle was on fire. She lifted her gaze to what was going on and after a moment of confusion froze, a gasp escaping her lips.

Raphael tensed up at the noise but the girl made no other move. Must be hurt, he concluded, or she'd be running right about now. The lack of screaming was kind of nice, too. He wouldn't complain. "Did ya hear me? Time to go home." He made to charge them, taking a quick step forward, teeth bared and the two yelped and ran for their lives, leaving their friend behind.

"That's loyalty for ya." He carefully put away his weapons and crouched down by the kid, feeling for a pulse. Satisfied, he turned to the girl and rose slowly. She looked terrified. She was older than he originally thought. Not a child, but she didn't seem an adult either. Her large grey eyes were wide as she stared at him. He hated being stared at but he ignored it and took care not to look menacing. He had been told he had a tendency to glare and come across as angry.

He tried a smile which must have come out more as a stiff grimace, with the confused way the girl was looking at his mouth. He gave up that attempt and just stepped toward her with his palms up as you would with a wounded animal. "Are ya hurt?" He tried to soften his voice but it just didn't really have that setting. He reached her and could see her trembling in place, she still looked a little dazed. He crouched down to her level and tried again. "Where are you hurt? I can call an ambulance if you'd like." He wasn't good at this shit, this was more Don's thing.

She stared, she couldn't help it. Was this really happening? There was some sort of turtle man talking to her but in her bewildered state she wasn't processing his words, still too shocked that it, he, could talk. Is this city full of friendly other-worldly beings? This couldn't be the norm, could it? She had never seen anything like this before, that she remembered. She couldn't usually hear spirits or see... was he a demon? He didn't feel like a demon. The only experience she had had of this sort was nothing more than an odd feeling she'd get sometimes which she could only describe as a 'presence', or strange dreams she could never make out the meaning of until the thing they were about had already happened. Hadn't ever been very useful. Premonitory dreams you only deciphered after the fact didn't really serve any purpose.

When she still wouldn't answer he started to wonder if maybe she had hit her head harder than he thought. He reached out a hand slowly towards her chin and stopped right before touching her skin. She was examining his three-fingered hand with a furrowed brow. When she made no further movement he slid his fingers under her jaw, his thumb on her chin and turned her head gently to the side. Her grey eyes stayed on his face and he pulled his own away to try find a head wound. She was searching his features. He scowled and felt her stiffen so he tried to relax his expression and get on with it but with her black hair it would be hard to see anything. He brought his other hand to the side of her head and ran the tips of his fingers through the roots of her hair, probing her scalp for any lumps.

He could feel her quivering against his fingers on her jaw and the way she nervously swallowed. Don't freak out on me now, you were doing so well, he said to himself. How could someone be so damn soft? What purpose could this possibly serve? He felt as if his calloused hands would catch on her skin and tear it. Before he could follow his thought his searching fingers on her scalp found a lump and felt wetness as she flinched slightly. Bingo. He edged closer and put his knee down by hers as he turned her head further. It was almost on the back.

He's tending to my wounds, she thought to herself as the realisation hit her. Why? Her mind went over every mythological reptile she could remember trying to think of what she was supposed to do with it, him. Wasn't there some kind of lizard that turned you to stone if it looked upon you? He's definitely a turtle and not evil. Probably not evil. Maybe there's a chance he isn't evil. Shouldn't startle it though, just in case, it did seem rather violent earlier. He had done something to that boy while she was out of it. Her eyes examined the kid laying motionless on the floor and recognized him as one of the boys who had been chasing her. The turtle had checked him over, though if to see if he was alive or to confirm he was dead, she couldn't tell. She parted her lips slightly to ask but couldn't get words to form. She was beginning to feel faint again and she realised how fast her heart was beating and how ragged her breathing was. She closed her eyes and tried to regain some control, to calm down before she passed out.

"I need to see how bad it is." He said quietly as he shifted. He didn't really expect an answer at this point. So he shifted the hand at her chin putting his thumb on this side of her jaw and his fingers on the opposite, his palm resting lightly against her neck as he tilted her head to get a good angle. With his free hand he ran his fingers under her ear and along the nape of her neck, she shuddered and it made him pause, realising how intimate the gesture was and how frightened she must be with the way she was breathing. It wasn't every day he was this close to a pretty girl who needed his help and didn't run off screaming. Though freezing up in terror wasn't his ideal situation either, he could manage it better than the former.

He lifted his hand slowly to pull her hair loose from her coat but he had not expected it to be so long. He ended up having to extend his whole arm, the silken black strands cascading over it and falling over her shoulders and back. It felt like silk water, he had never experienced anything similar. He hadn't really touched anyone's hair other than his father's and it was nothing like this. He mentally shook himself out of his reverie and ran a finger through her hair again, just above the wound, parting it to reveal her scalp.

She was pretty certain now that this creature meant her no harm. He was being very careful with her, tender almost, and she allowed his touch and tried not to move. This couldn't be a coincidence, she thought. She focused on the warm medal against the skin of her chest under her clothing. Her father's medal of Saint Benedict, patron saint of protection, health and... exorcism. She was sent a turtle protector, she thought, where have I heard that before? The turtles she had come up from the books she had read were the kind that carried cities, islands or the world on their backs and he didn't really seem to fit that image. No, there was more, the Japanese turtle warrior, remember? Her heart filled with relief.

Head wounds tended to bleed a lot but this one had already stopped. It didn't look too bad. He went back to his starting position and released her jaw, rubbing his fingers to dispel the tingling there from touching her. "It doesn't look bad, I don't think. What do you wanna do? Do you have anyone you could call to pick you up? Maybe your parents or a friend? You live nearby?"

She looked down then and moistened her lips to speak trying to will her voice to come out strong and sure. His eyes were immediately drawn to the pink appendage that had darted over her lips. She pierced him with what she hoped was a confident look. "Genbu?" She berated herself at how weak and small that came out but was the best she could do.

He almost missed what she said with his distraction. "What?"

She looked confused at him, creasing her brow. If she had had enough blood in her face she would be blushing in embarrassment. She had to be right, but her mind wasn't as sharp as she was used to. She didn't know if it was the hit to the head, the adrenaline crash after her chase or the fact that crazy stuff was happening to her again in the same night. She suddenly felt exhausted, her limbs heavy and her tongue a dead weight in her dry mouth. First the spirits and now him. "Are you... Genbu? Genbu is..."

"I know who Genbu is." He cut her off a bit harsher than he meant and she flinched from him. He had been stunned by her question. It was something he had not expected. Genbu was a from a Japanese legend, The Black Turtle, said to be the protector of Kyoto, one of four guardian spirits of the city. His father had told them the tale many times, how the humans built a shrine to honour him. Leonardo loved that story when they were kids and had asked to be told it over and over playing out his imagined adventures during games. He hated the story. They were nothing like Genbu. If they were like Genbu, where was their shrine? Why did they have to live hidden under the city among the humans' filth. He didn't feel honoured and he hadn't even thought about the unfairness of it all until he could compare their situations. "No. I'm just a turtle."

"A turtle warrior..." her eyes darted to the side and what she was going to say was cut off by her startled scream. She reached for him, slender fingers poking out from under her oversized coat sleeves trying to pull him to the side. He realised what was happening and tried to pull her out of the way with him when he heard the unmistakable noise of a revolver being cocked and the loud clap of gunfire echoing through the alley.

Michelangelo blinked up at the ceiling of his room. Well that was interesting. He turned his head and felt rather than saw, his usual guest in the corner of his room. "You all right there, Deb? Want me to get you a cushion or something?" She didn't answer. He didn't really expect her to.

According to the girl, Amaia, they were both still somehow back at the room, trapped there. It explained his continued dreams and how he thought of that room almost non stop. The whispers were back and a little louder. Maybe they didn't leave and he had just learned to block them out to sleep. He could feel them... it wasn't just the annoying noise any more. They seemed to be pushing against him, against his mind, and that was unsettling. Maybe he'd tell Amaia next time they met.

He smiled to himself and crossed his arms behind his head. He had spoken to a pretty girl as if he were a regular human being and it had been quite fun to play pretend for a while, despite the subject discussed. He'd even flirted a bit and she had blushed and smiled back at him, at him! He always knew he was the charming one of his brothers, even though Don seemed to get most of the female attention.

She seemed a bit young now that he thought about it and he frowned at that. He and his brothers were 22 now and even though Raphael openly scorned the idea that they would need to follow the human age restrictions he wasn't very comfortable with the idea of pursuing someone under age. Maybe I'll ask her how old she is next time and if she's seeing anyone. He giggled to himself as he sat up in bed. The fact that he was a giant talking turtle wasn't deterring his fantasies. A turtle can dream, can't he?

He was wide awake now and there was no way he was going back to sleep any time soon. She was really cuuute~ He lay back down on his carapace as he imagined the soft curl of her pink lips when she smiled at him. They seemed so soft. He wondered what it would be like to kiss them over a cup of coffee after saying something funny and making her laugh. He touched his fingers to his lips and then his hand drifted down, nails lightly scratching over the central scute of his plastron, but as his fingers hovered over his abdomen he remembered something and his head snapped to the side, all of his warm feelings dissipated.

"Hey, uh, Deb? Do you think you could go take a walk or something for like." He tilted his head considering. "I'd say around fifteen minutes should do the trick."

"You know I can't leave this room."

He made a petulant whine through his nose and lifted himself leaning back on his elbows to glare into the corner. "Does that mean I'm stuck with you staring at me all the time until I fix this? A turtle needs a little privacy! How am I supposed to have any 'me time' with you staring at me? It's really off-putting! I can't get into the mood with an audience!"

The woman in the corner seemed confused so Mikey demonstrated by making the appropriate up and down movement with his fingers touching his thumb forming a circle. She sputtered, completely embarrassed by the gesture. "Have you no shame? You're not going to do THAT in front of me, are you?" It was more emotion than he had ever felt coming from her and he was satisfied with the small win.

"Ha, ha, well, that's what guys do you know. Except maybe Leonardo, I think he could be a monk or something. He probably finds the whole concept of sex dishonourable, never mind the self-pleasuring bit." He grinned as she continued to make sputtering noises. "Fine, fine, we'll figure something out later. But for now I can't sleep and I can't masturbate which is what usually fixes the problem so you're going to have to talk to me until I'm sleepy again. We have to talk anyway, might as well do it now."

"F-fine Michelangelo, all right, just, can we stop talking about THAT, please?" Mikey chuckled and nodded, "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Tell me what happened to you. What do you remember?"

"I'm not sure, it's all a bit fuzzy. I remember going out with friends and meeting someone, a man. He was quite the gentleman and very handsome. He said he was going to another party and we parted ways, he gave me his number and I met up with him a couple days later. We had a couple drinks and I don't remember anything after that. Until you were in the room with my body, that is."

"Well that doesn't help much." He rubbed his face with a hand and swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit up properly. "So far, and correct me if I'm wrong, we are looking for a man who could have drugged you at the bar and taken you away with him to murder and chop up." She shuddered, "Anything else? Can you describe him to me?"

"Dark hair, fair skin, about six foot tall." She huffed frustrated. "I don't know what else to say. I don't remember any other characteristic feature I could tell you."

"So, no eye patch, scar or recognizable tattoo? Damn, we're in trouble." He chuckled and was relieved when she did too. "What was he wearing?"

"Dark trousers and a black leather jacket." She pondered for a moment before adding "Oh! He was wearing a shirt with cuff-links made with a red smooth stone, a ruby, maybe, or a garnet. Those are red, right? Something like that. I thought it was odd. Looked like something someone a lot older would wear, not a guy in his twenties."

"Hot guy wearing dad clothes, got it. That narrows it down a bunch, I'll keep my eyes open for him."

Leonardo paused at Mikey's door. The sound of laughter and someone talking had made him get out of bed. He wasn't sleeping anyway, he'd had an unsettling feeling most of the night. Mikey was talking animatedly with someone but he couldn't hear the other person's half of the conversation, perhaps he was on the phone? Maybe he was –

He heard him laugh and say something like "See, Deb? Who says you don't have a sense of honour?" He froze at the thought. Donatello had warned him something like this could happen if they waited. Mikey could lose touch with reality. He needed to figure this out right now.

Michelangelo's mouth snapped shut halfway through a sentence when Leonardo barged into his room and they stared at each other for a few seconds. "Uh, hi, bro, knock next time, will you. I could have been..." He started to make the hand gesture but Leo cut him off.

"Who were you talking to, Mikey?"

Mikey's eyes flickered to the corner of the room for a second before answering. "N-no one. There's no one in here I was just talking out loud. I couldn't sleep."

Leonardo followed his gaze slowly and then reached behind the door to flick on the light. With the space illuminated and showing that there was nothing there he turned his attention back to Mikey. His eyes flicked between Mikey's, searching for something in silence.

Michelangelo tensed and his body started to quake. "He knows, Michelangelo. He thinks you've lost your mind. You need to say something or he'll be against you as well." The whispers started getting louder as his fear increased. It was so loud in his ears, it was making this thoughts muddy.

"You don't know that!" He snapped, turning his head to the corner. He realised what he just did and he looked up fearfully at his brother with his head lowered and his breathing heavy.

Leonardo was looking at him with the saddest expression he had ever seen on his face and he started to walk over to where he sat on his bed slowly. Michelangelo shot up and put his hands in front of him to try stop his advance. "It's not what you think! Please, Leo, I'm not... I'm not..." He pressed his palms to the sides of his head, trying to block out the noise and whimpered. "Please, listen to me!" He was pleading desperately now, his brother kept advancing with careful, measured steps towards him, his look pleading and his arms spreading a little wider each time.

"It's okay, Mikey, everything is going to be okay."

"No! You don't understand. You don't understand, Leo, you weren't supposed to know yet. This, this isn't what we planned. Everything is messed up and now you think I'm crazy. Please, Leo, please, I am not crazy! You have to believe me!" He had fallen backwards and was pushing himself away from his brother. Batting his hands away and scampering up to the headboard climbing upwards to get away, his carapace scraping the wall with his uncoordinated efforts to stay out of reach. He was crying now, overwhelmed, everything was ruined and now none of his brothers would believe him or help him. He was going to end up staying like this forever.

"Mikey!" Leonardo sobbed at the strange actions of his frightened brother. Mikey was terrified of him. He was losing his mind and maybe he wasn't recognizing him any more, thought he would hurt him. What had he done? He should have listened to Don, he had seen what was happening to him. It shouldn't have come to this.

He finally reached his brother and placed his hands on Mikey's shoulders. "Shhh, it's okay Mikey, I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Just come here, Mikey, please. Everything is going to be fine, I won't let anything happen to you."

Mikey instinctively obeyed his brother's comforting voice, the one that had soothed countless nightmares. It was the same voice that used to cradle him to sleep when he was ill or afraid. Leonardo's warm arms wrapped around him, one hand snaking up to caress his cheek and then the back of his mask-less head. He looked into his older brother's eyes and saw only worry and love and he melted into his soft touches, whimpering as he nuzzled into his shoulder.

Leonardo was standing by his bedside table hunched over a kneeling Mikey who was clinging as he sobbed into him. Leonardo was shushing him gently as he held his trembling brother. He rubbed his cheek against the top of his head and rubbed his carapace in little circles like their father did when they were younger. The door to Mikey's room creaked open and Michelangelo tensed when he saw the outline of his brainy brother.

"He's going to sedate you like a lunatic, look at what he's carrying." Deborah said from her corner.

"Is everything all right?" Donatello asked stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Yes, Don, everything is fine." Leonardo answered. Mikey had started trembling in his arms again and he frowned, looking over his shoulder at his brother.

"What have you got there, Don?" Mikey's voice cracked as he asked. The whispers were roaring in his ears and he could make out what they were saying. It was more like they were pushing him to act than actually forming understandable words. They were urging him to run, to escape and go to them where it was safe. When he made up his mind they quieted down somewhat and allowed him a moment to think

"Ah, this?" He held out his hand that he had by his side and partially hidden behind his back showing a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "Just something to help you sleep in case you needed it."

Michelangelo extricated himself slowly from his brother and stood up, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks, Don, but I think I'm okay now." He'd have to play it smart if he wanted to pull this off. In his current position he was trapped. "I just," he leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "had a little moment of panic."

"You need help, Mikey." Donatello answered, not budging from his position.

"I know, Don." He said in a small voice. "I know. I need you. Help me." He reached out with his hand slightly urging Donatello to do the same, his eyes sad and pleading.

When he saw his broker's resolve break and sadness fill his eyes he knew he had won. Donatello took a step forward reaching out to his frightened little brother with his free hand. I'm sorry, Donnie. When their fingers touched his hand closed around Donatello's wrist and he yanked him forward side-stepping so he'd fall straight into Leonardo, toppling them onto the bed. He charged out of his bedroom and immediately headed over to the exit in a straight line, practically flying over the furniture in his way.

When he had almost reached the entrance to the lair he noticed the key pad by the handle had a red blinking light. His eyes widened, Donatello had locked it from the inside, they never did that. Must be why he took so long to come see what was going on. He had foreseen this all happening and had been two steps ahead. We don't call you genius for nothing, brother.

He felt a weight crash into him from behind and wrestle him to the ground. Leonardo had him pinned in a hold he couldn't break in his position, plastron down with his arms twisted behind him and his brother's weight on his legs.. The whispering sounded loud and angry but he was done. There was no way out of this now. Still, he struggled, and when Donatello came in to view he tried pleading with him even though he knew it futile. "Don! Donnie, please. Please don't do this Donnie please. Ple-ease, Don!" He was speaking through howling sobs, his words broken and desperate as if he were begging for his life. He could hear his older brother sniffing and trying to choke back his own cries, pressing his face to the side of his head and trying to soothe him with words he couldn't hear any more.

He did the only other thing he could think of, "Dad! Father. Help! Please help me, Dad! Daaaaad!" Donatello kneeled down beside him and pressed his forearm against his leg, trying to keep him still. He bit off the plastic cap of the hypodermic needle and spit it to the side. "Why are you doing this? No! Donnie! Noooo!" He yelped when Donatello plunged the needle into his thigh. His writhing and struggling slowly became more clumsy and weak until his body went completely slack.

"It's okay, it's taken effect." Donatello said with a shaky voice. He placed the plastic cap back on the needle and slumped into a sitting position, his hand on his little brother's carapace.

Leonardo released his brother and gently turned him around, pulled him to his chest and cradled him against his body. My poor brother. He brushed the tears off Mikey's face with the back of his fingers. A moment later Donatello made a choked sob he cut off by covering his mouth. Leonardo reached for him with his free hand and pulled him into the embrace.

When he lifted his gaze he noticed a confused and frightened Splinter halfway to them, walking stick left behind in his rush to heed his children's cries of anguish. Leonardo took a shaky breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "Father, we need to talk."

Donatello's head lifted at this and he pulled away from the embrace, turning away and lifting his mask to wipe the wetness under his eyes he ended up pulling it off completely when he noticed how damp it was. As he made to rise, the phone in his belt started ringing. "Can this night get any worse?"

"Do not tempt fate, my child," Master splinter said softly as he knelt by his children and put his bony hand on his youngest son's head and the other on the oldest.

Donatello muttered "It's Raph." before answering the call and putting it against his ear. "Raph? This better be really important."


	9. Attrition

Previously.

Donatello muttered "It's Raph." before answering the call and putting it against his ear. "Raph? This better be really important."

The gun shot echoed in her ears as she was pushed roughly to the side, slightly behind the dumpster. She had heard the turtle, Genbu, grunt as he tried to shield her as best he could from the first round.

He turned around and launched himself towards the boy who was crouched low near the entrance to the alley. The kid ducked out of the way to the side and Raph missed, going right past him. When he planted his right foot down and his muscles coiled to twist and spring back in his direction, his leg buckled, refusing to take his weight. He was bleeding profusely from a wound below his hip on the inside of his thigh. He cursed as he went down reaching back for a shuriken he let loose before crashing against the brick wall with his shoulder and carapace.

The shuriken bounced off the revolver and the second round missed, he nearly dropped the firearm from the impact but managed to keep a hold of it and now levelled it to the downed turtle's chest. Too far away to stop him, just far enough Raph would have a hard time dodging or reaching for any of his weapons before he was shot down. He leaned most of his weight on his good leg getting ready to twist away from his line of fire and charge the kid again.

Raphael saw movement behind him but kept his eyes trained on the kid's. As the kid's finger tensed on the trigger the girl brought down a two by four with all her strength on the kids wrist holding the revolver. He cried out in pain, squeezing out the round too late and it ricochetted on the ground near Raphael's foot. The kid couldn't keep his hand holding up the gun with his busted wrist so he let his arm go limp by his side not letting go of the revolver. As he mad to turn toward her, snarling through his teeth she swung the wooden board again and got him in the side of the head knocking him out for the second time that night.

She dropped the board and rushed to the fallen turtle-man, her twisted ankle forgotten. There was a lot of blood. Genbu was pressing down on the wound, cursing in colourful expletives. She kneeled in front of him and her fingers hovered over his leg, not sure if her touch was even welcome. How the tables had turned in the course of only a few seconds.

He batted her hands away. "Stop it, I'm... I'm fine." He wasn't. He'd never make it back to the lair like this. Maybe he could call someone but they didn't have a vehicle, hadn't been able to salvage anything other than his motorcycle from the collapse of their old lair and that wasn't even in working order yet. He didn't think he'd be able to make the trip on the back of it anyway, he was already feeling a bit faint.

He turned his head when he heard voices coming from down the street. He made out someone saying, "Over here! He needs our help!". He cursed again. _Turtle luck at it's best_.

The girl moved beside him on his right, the side of his injury, and tried to pull his arm over her shoulder despite his complaints. "Forget it, I won't be able to make it away. Don't worry, I can still fight. Ya need to get outta here!" He pushed her away a bit more roughly than he thought and she toppled over.

"Stop! I live right there!" She pointed to a metal door painted brown on the wall across from them. "That's the pedestrian access door to my garage, come on!"

This time he let her help pull him up though he tried to keep most of his weight off her small childlike frame. She tried not to crinkle her nose at the ripe smell of underarm sweat. She figured she probably didn't smell too fresh under her heavy coat after running either. She was going to have to get the coat cleaned anyway, so what was a bit of turtle armpit to add to the mix?

She paused by the door and fished out the keys turning the lock and pushing him through into the darkened room. She quickly closed the door behind her before the back up rounded the corner. She looked around in the dingy light, they were going to need something to plug the wound and bandage his leg tightly to stop the bleeding. There was a well stocked first aid kit under the sink in the corner by a tarp-covered vehicle that took up most of the space.

She made to turn her head and open her mouth to speak but Genbu covered her mouth with his hand and held her still. His body was shaking with the effort of staying upright but she did as she was told, or urged, whatever. Then she heard it: a scrape on the metal door. They were listening to see if they had gone through it. She pressed her lips tightly together. She could taste his blood on them, his hand was covered in it. _It's just blood. It's turtle demon blood_ , her brain offered, _it might be poisonous_.

She kept still and waited. Only around ten seconds must have passed but she felt Genbu leaning more against her and his trembling intensified. She shifted slightly and he released his hold on her mouth, her lips tingling from the contact. _And the poisonous demon-turtle-man blood_. _Stop it, brain, he's not a demon!_

She lifted an arm to wrap around the back of his carapace, her fingers curling under the lip securely to hold up some more weight. She felt him jump slightly when the tips of her fingers brushed the leathery skin under there and tried not to think about it much. He turned his head, looking at her. His eyes were flashing like she'd seen animal's eyes do in the dark when they looked more like big mirrors than eyes. It made him look frightfully demonic and she suppressed a shudder.

She tilted her hip slightly to take on a bit of his weight against it, like you'd do when carrying a basket on your side and placed her right hand against his plastron. She could feel the thump of his rapidly beating heart underneath the tough surface which brought a bit of relief to her. _It doesn't mean anything, some demons have heartbeats too_.

He relaxed a slightly as he leaned more comfortably against her. She was so close to him she could actually smell his turtle skin. If she turned her head her nose would brush his cheek the way she was tucked into his side under his arm. It was the strangest sensation ever. Definitely not a human's smell. It was a bit... fishy? And not in a pleasant way. Even his sweat smelled differently and she tried not to make any faces but started breathing softly through her parted lips as discretely as possible to not offend the creature. She tried not to think about that or the awkward embrace they were forced into like the worst seven minutes in heaven game _ever_.

That wasn't fair to him, she was being mean. _He got caught in this situation by protecting you, you should be ashamed_. _He can't help the way he smells_. This night was turning out to be the strangest night of her entire existence and that was saying a lot living with an exorcist for a father.

They heard steps leading away from the alley, the voices dying down as they went back around the corner dragging their friend along. She started pulling him toward a foot stool by the sink and helped lower him onto it. She immediately pulled out the first aid kit and started patching him up enough to be able to move him again and get him some help.

Help, where? Where could she take a turtle demon- _man, not a demon, a turtle man_ , to a veterinarian? Her hands were trembling and she had to re-apply a section of bandage because of it. The silence was fraying her already shot nerves.

He spoke up before she could ask any questions. "Does it drive?" He nudged his head toward the tarp-covered vehicle.

"Yes, I turned on the engine yesterday but I'm not sure if there's something else wrong with it. My father has kept it here for at least six months without using it and I'm not sure of the reason."

"Do _you_ drive?" He gave her a sidelong glance with his head partly turned away as she worked on him. "I'm sorry I kind of got some of my blood on you." He said as a second thought.

She nodded but didn't look up at him. "I'll take you wherever you need to go if you can give me directions, I don't know my way around very well." She finished up and pushed the box away. She'd clean up later, she didn't really want to waste time.

She pulled the dusty tarpaulin off of the car, a banged-up old white Fiat 500 topolino. Raphael curled his lip in distaste. The thing looked like an old golf buggy. "What?" She said, slightly offended at his look. "It's a 70's classic!"

He accepted her help to get up, keeping his weight off his busted leg. "That's one way to call it." He muttered. "Can that piece of junk even handle our weight? It looks like it's about to fall apart!" When she glanced sideways to him she saw he was grinning. _He's provoking me on purpose._ She gave him a sideways smile, shook her head and tugged him forward, unlocking his door with the key in her hand and holding it open so he could hop inside.

"I left the keys to the limo in my other trousers, m'Lord." She answered as she closed his car door hearing him say ha, ha, very funny, from inside. She darted over to the driver's side and hopped in, taking the car out of gear and turning the engine. It made a god-awful sound but started and she sighed with relief.

"Are you sure this is a car or a freakin' lawnmower on wheels?" She snorted through her nose trying not to out right laugh, thankful for the banter to lighten the mood. She bent over to his side, opening the glove compartment to dig around for the garage door remote and felt him immediately stiffen at her proximity.

Raphael tried not to think about her hair that pooled between his legs and brushed over his thighs. "I got it. I said I got it!" He found the damned thing and pressed the button, watching the garage door open before putting it away again.

She frowned but waited in silence, feeling like she had overstepped or offended him somehow. "Ya sure you know how to drive this thing? It's a stick shift."

"Yes, I know how to drive it." She rolled her eyes. "Just lead the way."

They pulled out and he gave her some directions before driving in silence for a while and then pulling out his phone. He wouldn't be able to get to the lair on his own and he didn't want to lead her all the way back. He'd have to take her to a relatively close manhole cover and have one of his brother's help him home. His finger hovered over Leo's number and he grimaced. He did not need a lecture right now. He pressed Don's number and held the device to the side of his head. When he lifted his gaze to the street he realised how dizzy and faint he was feeling, the scenery was blurring. He looked down to his lap. He was bleeding through the bandages and soaking the car seat with blood. Damn.

Donatello spoke through the device and he had to shake himself to answer him. This was not good. "Don?" Crap, he sounded like shit too, he was starting to feel like he would pass out any second. "Don, listen, I need you to go to the manhole by the old, abandoned warehouse where we used to train. I... I'm hurt and I need help to get home." He paused and she heard what appeared to be voices arguing over the other line. "Just- Don! I can't, just," He huffed through his nostrils and she saw him sway before reaching out with his right hand on the dash to steady himself. "Don? I'm okay I just need ya to come pick me up, okay?"

He hung up the phone and she frowned. He was blinking hard and squinting at the street. Cold fingers of fear gripped her chest. "You still with me, Genbu?" She said when he looked like he was going to bump his head against the window.

"M'not Genbu." He muttered, shaking his head slightly to try clear it. "Turn right at the end of this street. There's a... there's a..." His voice tapered off and he was blinking some more.

"An old abandoned warehouse?" She supplied for him. She reached over and placed her hand over his, squeezing it and rubbing her thumb in circles over his knuckles. "We're almost there, stay with me, okay?"

"Yeah," He felt almost like he was drunk, watching the slender fingers curled over his hand like it was some kind of pale pink alien spider. _A soft, warm spider. Didn't he hate spiders?_ He pressed his thumb against the tips of the small fingers curled into his palm and held it there. "Ya should have turned right when I told ya."

"I thought it wasn't until I reached..."

"I mean back when, when they were," he made a vague gesture with his free hand, "chasing ya."

"Oh." She frowned, remembering the voice that had called out to her during her sprint across the city. _Was that really just hours ago?_ "Well, I didn't know it was you who said it otherwise I would have paid closer attention." She smiled at him though he didn't notice. He was still staring at their hands. Her thumb was tracing the smooth marking of a scar over a knuckle. When he didn't reply she tried something else to try keep him talking, "You don't really look like a black turtle now that I can get a better look at you, Genbu." His green skin was turning a sickly greyish colour, but she didn't mean that. "Though I guess in the dark all warrior-turtles are black."

His head snapped up to her, seemingly stirred from his haze, "Quit callin' me that! I'm not Genbu, I'm not a black turtle." He bellowed though he kept his hold on her fingers.

She smiled and stole a glance at him, he looked more confused than angry. "Why does it bother you so much? You two not friends?"

"We're..." he pitched to the right, against the door and looked up at her when his shell made a loud tap against the window, puzzled, as if he wasn't sure where he was any more or who she was. "We're nothing... alike..." His eyes closed and his body slumped forward.

Her hand darted out to press against his plastron to try avoid him face-planting against her dashboard but she let go when she caught they were drifting out of the corner of her eye. The seatbelt went taut and held him in position, the top of his head inches away from the hard surface and his body swaying slightly with the movement of the car. "Genbu? Genbu! Come on, Genbu we're almost there. Don't, don't do this. Don't leave me here, Genbu!"

Fear gripped her but she concentrated on the road. She kept talking to him to try rouse him, squeezed his hand, shook his left leg, his left shoulder, but it was in vain. "Shit!" She cursed, tears making her vision blurry and she rubbed at them furiously with the knuckles of one hand to clear them. She saw the warehouse and turned toward it, slowing down to see where the manhole cover was. She spotted it and she cursed internally, she couldn't reach it by car. She didn't know how she was going to move him and she was beginning to despair.

She parked the car as close as she could to the entrance and killed the ignition. She'd have to drag him there. Maybe she should have folded the tarpaulin up and put it in the back to drag him on it but then he had looked like he was fine and she hadn't doubted he would make it.

She left the keys in the ignition, it didn't look like there was anyone around here, this place looked abandoned, alright. She removed his seatbelt and gently slumped him over the dashboard then rushed to his side of the car. "This will have to do." She pulled off her coat, her father's coat and placed it on the ground right in front of his opened door then pulled him out hooking her elbows under his armpits and heaving, placing him on the soft lining.

"You need to lay off on the body-building you are really heavy, Genbu." She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and figure she had pulled him far enough. "Actually, maybe I should start. My arms are going to be sore tomorrow." She kept talking to him but it was hopeless. She whimpered and knelt beside him under the light of a lonely lamp post. She searched the area with her eyes before settling down and taking one of his strange, three-fingered hands in hers. His palms were rough and calloused, she noted, as she turned it palm side up. The wrappings on his wrist wouldn't allow her to find a pulse. She brushed her fingers against the soft skin on the underside of his jaw, where it met his neck and felt the faint flutter of a pulse. She slid her hand beneath his neck to lift his head a bit.

Despite the chill her skin was flushed with the exertion. It wouldn't last. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She placed the back of her free hand near his mouth and felt his soft intake of breath. "Genbu, I am so sorry, this is my fault." She arranged his limbs in a more comfortable position. His neck was at an odd angle the way his carapace kept his shoulders off the ground and holding his head up with her hand was making her wrist stiff. She shifted and pulled him up a bit so she could hold him cradled against her, an elbow tucked right above the lip of his carapace to cushion his head, his cheek to her chest. He felt cold now and she rubbed his arms gently with her warm hands.

She examined his face now more calmly. He looked to be resting. She wondered about the red mask over his eyes. He was going to die in her arms because she had decided to go out walking on her own at night. She stifled a sob and pressed her forehead to his. "Forgive me. I only just found you and I got you killed. You didn't even tell me your name." She whispered.

She ran shaking fingers through her hair trying to push it out of the way. It spilled over her shoulder with her lowered head and curtained them for a moment. There was one thing she could do for him. She was no priest, but at this point, she guessed that if there was someone watching over them he could overlook it. "He's probably one of yours anyway." She said out loud.

She didn't have the right oils or even the cross to perform the ritual but she'd make do. She reached into the front of her dress and pulled the chain with a small medal over her head. Reciting the prayers she remembered and the motions she had seen before, she performed what she could of the Extreme Unction. She could, at the very least, try to send him peacefully to the other side.

He couldn't say the answering words so she said them for him, talking softly by his cheek, caressing him tenderly as she delivered the prayers, modulating her voice in a chant she'd heard the priests at home do. He was meant to kiss a cross used in the ritual and then hold it until his time came but she had none so she pressed her father's medal of Saint Benedict to his lips and wrapped the chain around one of his wrists. "You can keep this for me. Maybe Saint Benedict will listen and bring you back to us." She said a small prayer of protection to the saint.

She had no oil for the last part and she looked around for something that would suffice. She didn't think saliva would be very appropriate but if there was nothing else... A drop fell on her hand and she chuckled weakly as she lifted her thumb to her face, wetting the pad on her tears and began. Her thumb drew little crosses over his face: one over each closed eye, nostrils, mouth, she had to search for his ear slits and found them just below his mask on the sides of his head, hands and feet saying the appropriate prayer with each movement, praying for his protection, his eternal happiness and a peaceful crossing.

She hadn't noticed there was anyone with her until a pair of feet came into view. She lifted her watery gaze and gripped Genbu a little tighter to her chest until she noticed that they were two more turtle men, like the one in her arms. "I'm sorry." She whispered and when one of them raised his dark eyes from Genbu to her he looked confused and frightened.

When Donatello had answered after listening to Raph with a "How badly are you hurt?" Leonardo knew they hadn't just tempted fate, they must have pissed off some deity for this to be happening.

He had asked Don for the phone, fed up with Raphael always looking for trouble when they least needed it but he just kept speaking to Raph himself, "What is it, Raph? Is it a paper-cut or are you missing an arm?"

Donatello went quiet. His brother sounded hurt even though he could barely make him out over the sound of an engine. "Are you driving?" He listened as his brother told him he was okay in a way that meant he was absolutely not okay. For him to need help to go home he must be the furthest thing from okay you could possibly get without being dead. He had seen his brother stagger in the door with some ugly wounds and then resist asking for help getting them treated. He listened for the explanation for the meeting point and put his phone away when he ended the call.

"What is it, Don?"

Donatello frowned as his father and Leonardo waited expectantly. "He's hurt and he needs help getting back home."

Leonardo frowned, "He asked for help?"

"Yes." They both knew what that meant. Donatello moved to pick up Michelangelo's legs and waited for Leonardo to have a good grip under his arms before lifting. "Lets put him in his bed."

"Do you need me to keep watch over Michelangelo, my son?" He rose and hobbled towards them but they rushed forward without him and he waited until they were back for an answer.

"No, Sensei, he'll be sleeping fine. There shouldn't be a problem. He should be out for the next twelve hours at least. Sensei, do you need any help? We need to get moving now."

"No, my son, hurry to your brother." He watched them get ready and leave soon after. He could not rest now, he hobbled over to his youngest son's room and sat on the floor by his bed. He placed his hands on his knees and readied his mediation. If Raphael needed him he would try to reach him any way he could.

Leo and Don raced through the sewers as quickly as their feet could carry them. The warehouse manhole wasn't too far away but it wasn't the closest one to the lair. Donatello pondered this and concluded that he must have been with someone, _the driver of that car perhaps_ , and didn't want to bring him too close to the lair. He mentioned it to Leonardo in low tones as they continued down another passage.

Raphael had been somewhat vague as to the meeting point. There were two manhole covers in the vicinity of the abandoned warehouse and they went to the closest one. Leonardo checked for anyone just above them and signalled to Don that the way was clear.

They looked around in the immediate surroundings but found nothing. They were in full stealth mode since they didn't know what they would find and instead of rushing ahead they were slowly making their way forward among the shadows. It might be a trap, maybe Raphael had been captured and made to lead them here. He doubted it. Raphael would sooner die than put one of his brothers in danger that way, but they needed to be careful.

As they approached the other manhole, Leonardo raised a fist signalling to stop, tilting his head. Donatello heard it then, the soft whispering voice of a woman. It felt completely out of place here. They advanced toward it and when they found the source they both froze.

Donatello looked at the scene in front of him. His brother lay, unmoving, in the arms of a girl, her dark hair over her arms and shoulders like some messed-up version of The Piety in the Vatican, _sculpted by Michelangelo, heh_ , his mind added.

She was chanting through shaky intakes of breath. _She's crying. She's crying for him._ And he shuddered when he realised what she was doing as she brushed her thumb over each of his eyes and continued with other parts of his body. They do that for the dying. _Or for the dead._ His brain offered. She stopped and looked up then, at Leonardo who was staring, unbelieving. The light shone on her face then, pale with rounded grey eyes. The bottom half of her face though... The outline of a thumb on one cheek, the print of the palm over her mouth and chin and what looked like two large fingers over the other cheek. In blood. Tears had cleared a path down her cheeks and some was flaking away but it was the clear imprint of his brother's hand on her face. She told him she was sorry. _Why? Did you do this to him?_ It broke him from his reverie, this waking nightmare, and he jumped into action.

 _Not another brother, I can't lose another brother the same night. This can't be happening._ Leonardo was telling himself over and over again. He could only stare in horror at the sight. Donatello walked past him suddenly and he shook himself. He couldn't break down now, he was needed. He could crumble later, in the privacy of his room with his family at home.

Donatello knelt in front of his brother's body, his finger pressed to the side of his neck. Leonardo took a good look at him. His vibrant dark green skin looked ashen and pale but he didn't seem to be in pain. He looked unhurt other than some scratches over his shoulder and his leg. His right leg was bandaged up from just above the knee to just below the hip with a thick coat of white gauze, tightly in place. His wound had bled right through it, a stark contrast against the white material.

Leo reached up and pulled off his blue mask, handing it to Don. He gripped the offering with a trembling olive-green hand. Taking a breath he quickly got to work. It would be useless to try cover the bandages up with more cloth, they were already firmly packed, and removing them would only be detrimental if they did so here. He tied his brother's mask right above the bandaged area tightly, hoping it would be enough to stem the flow of blood until he could get him home. Without a word he moved to Raphael's side and extricated him from the girl pulling him up from under his arms. Leonardo was at his legs and he gently rose with him.

The girl said nothing more, quietly sniffling and watching them leave. Once they were gone she looked down at the coat, now stained with blood. _Genbu's turtle-demon blood._ After a few minutes in silence she rolled it up under one arm and left in the direction of her car.


End file.
